I am in a reminiscent mood this evening. Missing home, wherever that may be. I am not sure if it is where my parents are, where my children are, where my husband is, where I grew up, or where I am supposed to be? I am in my room right now, and it is my home. But, there is a part of me that misses the places and the people that bring me the comforts of home. Sometimes I feel like home is right here, where my kids and husband are safely snuggled inside our 4 walls. But, tonight, Julia is sleeping over at a friend's house, Colin has a friend sleeping over at our house, and Chris is sleeping at a hotel with his parents. My folks are in Florida and my siblings are in Indianapolis.

If I had to describe the feeling of home that I have with my family, inside our home, when we are all here and not trying to kill one another; I would have to say it is safe. I am allowed to be who I am and hopefully, they are allowed to be themselves. I know that even at my ugliest, they will allow me to be. And, even when I find their behavior reprehensible, I love them and allow them to be. Sometimes I don't allow them to stay in the same room with me, but I allow them to be themselves in their rooms. Safety is a good feeling. It means that I can feel stable enough to move outside of the structure of our home to love and serve others. When my home has been disrupted, I have withdrawn and pulled away from the life that stirs in our broader "home", our community.

The home I lived in with my family in Indianapolis was another place of safety and security. Our security wasn't always literal, but emotionally speaking, we were safe and secure. Mostly, this is because my mom modeled this for us. She made our home a safe place to be. There was never a sense that we would be punished for who we were or how we acted. We would be disciplined for sure. My dad made sure of that. He had the fear factor down to a science. A slight lifting of his eyebrow and we knew, done! We were done with whatever was happening. We dared not move forward in that action or behavior. And of course, there were times when he wasn't around to deter us with his eyebrow lifting, so the consequence was more dire. There was a paddle. I know of the paddle, I have seen the paddle. I have heard the paddle in action. But, the paddle and I have only met once. I am no dummy. I don't know what my brothers didn't get in their first introduction with the paddle that made them keep wanting to spend time with it. But, clearly the paddle was not a threat to them. They, especially my youngest brother, was well acquainted with the paddle and evidently they really got along. He kept visiting with it.

Even in the midst of that interaction, we knew that we could come walking through the door, with our bad attitudes and our hateful tones. We knew because we saw my mom love my dad through these very same moments. I saw my mom and dad struggle to provide opportunities and necessities for us, regardless of how horrible we were to them. I saw them fight for each of us, and for each other. I still can't completely fathom how they managed with all of us. But, I know what they gave us was the safety to move beyond our family to create our own lives. None of us have done it perfectly, or correctly. We have each struggled and will continue to struggle. Luckily, we know that there is safety with the family we were given.

I am reminded of that safety as I reconnect with friends from Indianapolis who I went to church with and who allowed me to be a part of their family. It is crazy for me to look back and see families whose children I watched and cared for as infants and toddlers. They are now in college. I would be hanging out with them in my home if they lived here. They would be coming to my house for dinner, and I would have changed their diapers. CRAZY!!! Now that I have my own kids, I know the amount of trust and confidence it took to let me care for their kids. They let me into their homes and let me play and pray with their kids. Such a gift to me at a time when I wasn't totally certain of who I was or how I was meant to serve in this world.

In this gift, my church gave me safety and security. Not just when I cared for the children in individual families, but when I was allowed to care for the kids in the church as a whole. I got to teach, play, pray and sing at my church without fear of inadequacy or judgment. Only now do I realize how very special my home church was and is. To say they loved my family would be an understatement. They literally cared for us for years while life was uncertain and scary. Never was the status of my home life used against me or used as a label. I never was afraid to show my face or to walk down the center aisle with the choir. I knew when I was standing beside these women and men of faith in the choir loft that they knew my darkest moments and still loved me and my family. I miss them. I miss that feeling. I know it is selfish of me to want more right now than what I have. But, I do. I want to feel that feeling. Lately, I have felt afraid to walk through the church doors. Fear makes my heart race, and sadness fills my heart because I don't know if I belong. Maybe I felt that safety because I was young and didn't have as much understanding of life. Now it all feels overwhelming sometimes. And the very place that should be safe and open no longer feels that way.

I am thankful that my church family, and the church families of my friends loved me and my family, "no matter what" and "even if". I was raised by my parents. And, luckily, I had a group of friends who were all active in churches around the East side of Indianapolis. From the Presbyterian church, to the Disciples of Christ, to the Nazarene, they all loved me and made me feel safe to explore God's love. In knowing that love, I have been allowed to carry safety and security to the many places that I have called home. Realizing that things will soon change in my family, I am forced to see what I came from and how that has made me who I am. It isn't all pretty, and my families know how ugly it was at times. So it isn't through rose colored glasses that I observe and ponder my past. It is, however, through a thankful and blessed heart that I recognize the gifts of community that I was allowed to grow in.

It is some of my own doing that prevents me from feeling safe and secure at church. I wish I could go back and do some things differently. Unfortunately, I don't get to push rewind and alter the past. Even if I could, I don't know which things I would change to make it feel better right now. So, with a sad heart on this night, I pray with thanksgiving for where I am and where I have been. I pray for forgiveness for those I have hurt. I pray for the hearts who haven't known safety. I pray for the hearts who wander in darkness and sadness and don't know how to walk through the fear into the light. As a body of Christ, and brothers and sisters in faith, I hope that we can open the doors of churches for those who tremble in fear as they walk in. It is so easy to stand in judgment of what we don't understand. Once that happens the door doesn't just close, it slams shut in front of someone who could really use love and acceptance.