Home is walking into the house and not having to say who you are.
Home is making a batch of cookies and having them all disappear within two hours.
Home is being in my pajamas and not combing my hair until 2 in the afternoon on some days, just because I’m busy doing other things and it doesn’t matter.
Home is long talks with Mom or my sisters.
Home is crazy with people coming and going at all hours and not being sure who is home or when.
Home is hashing out internal conflicts until it makes less sense than it did before you started – and then maybe doing it all over again with the next person that innocently walks into the room.
Home is laughing till you cry at Andy Griffith or Caleb’s most recent pun.
Home is changing…always changing…because the people that make up “home” are human and humans change.
Home is two hours of Bible study on Sunday morning without realizing two hours had gone by.
Home is praying together…which is too beautiful for words.
Home is watching Mom paint beautiful pictures…starting with a blank canvas which shortly becomes colorful amazingness.
Home is sharing news and happenings and encounters.
Home is chair legs scraping on the dining room floor, and a long table set for six feeling like too many people are missing.
Home is respecting differing opinions…or telling each other that we’re crazy but that’s okay.
Home is spontaneous hugs from my brothers, because “you can never have too many hugs”.
Home is rolling eyes and careless words and hurt feelings and love that overcomes all of that.
Home is refuge.
Home is rest.
Home is….home. And I am so thankful for that.