If I am honest, whenever I see this phrase, I think it is a little lame. But this weekend it came full circle for me.
I was in the kitchen baking (surprise surprise), as the piano wooed me from the living room next door. I found myself overwhelmed by the moment, lost with a sense that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I am home.
It was a striking thought because up until this point, Seattle has felt temporary. Home was in Bend and where I grew up in California. Seattle was just a season of life, a place to heal, find direction, and learn. But this ordinary moment brought extraordinary clarity.
Home is not a location or where someone is. Home is where your heart is. Where you allow yourself to dive in and invest, even when it’s scary and unknown and there is no timeline. Home is the simplest of things, like making homemade pot pie, having family dinners, and feeling like you belong. It is being fully present, loving and being loved.