It's where I'm most comfortable and where I am entirely me.
There are no masks or personas to live up to here.
I walk in the door and {sigh}, as if I've just come in from a storm.
As if I've been walking for miles upon miles...
It's where I am suddenly tired.
Home.
Most nights I can be found asleep on the couch, curled up under a blanket wrapped tightly around me, pillows under my head and behind my back, and my husband close by. I'm not sure what it is about Home that makes me feel tired - so comfortable.
Love is wrapped up in this place. I am allowed to be me and to let go of all of the performances.
I think of my son lately and the acting that this six-year-old has been putting on with all of his stories - trying to be like other people and making up stories that aren't his to tell.
I think of how tired he must be from keeping up with all the stories and the acting.
I tell him that his life is important and that the day's he is given are gifts to be treasured. I ask him what were his favorite parts of the day, as his head lays on his pillow. He asks me to tell him a story...a story from before I was a Mama. I remind him that the stories I tell him are my stories - my true stories.
I encourage him to be himself.
I name his gifts, one by one.
I speak outloud the truth of how special he is
and how important he is to so many people,
and
to God's Story.
And then I think about how each day when I leave the comfort of this place - of our home - it is so difficult to live true.
With all the comparisons we all make, and with all the envy around us and self-inflicted guilt of not doing or saying something that we think we should, we aren't being true to ourselves.
We aren't honoring who we are. We aren't living our story.
No wonder I find myself so tired.
There is one place in the whole world where I can lay down the charades and just be me.
For the comfort of home, I am incredibly grateful today!
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