The word is so sweet. Four letters that, when I hear them, settle inside of my being. At the same time, they both settle me and  fill me with longing.


I love this arrangement of the song Home performed by Michael Buble. It’s one of a number of songs Gerry and I use for road-trip music. We listened it to it over and over again a few years ago when we were driving toward the place I called Manderley.

The Canadian Tenors perform a beautiful song called Home I’ll Be that touches me equally.

“Saskatchewan’s warm wind wraps around me. “You are home,” she whispers. I’ve heard that one can’t go home again but don’t want to believe it. I want to be home; I need to be home. “ (From Two Hearts: An Adoptee’s Journey Through Grief to Gratitude.)

What does home mean to you? Is it a place? People? A feeling? Do you ever need to be there as I once did?


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.

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