The Home That Connects Us
By Sandy Hibbard
The home that connects us is not always the home we grew up in.
As I drive to visit my mother regularly, especially now that she’s older and her health and mind are declining, I find myself reflecting on various aspects of life during those car rides. My mind rambles from work, to money, to dreams, to feelings, relationships – old and new, plans for the future, and wandering through my past. Having that time is always a pleasure to me, to be able to dive into myself and think… quietly and uninterrupted.
On one of those recent drives, I was thinking how oftentimes I feel strangely connected when I get home and see my mom. There is an ease and a natural vibe I get that takes me back, and in a way grounds me as the person I know myself to be – Sandy.
And when I say “home” I mean where my mom is, where I grew up. That place hasn’t really been my home in a very long time. So it makes me wonder, what is home, really?
Is it where I live today with my daughter and my grandchildren? Is it my son’s place? Is my home where I used to live? A temporary residence like New York or Paris, where I felt oddly comfortable? Or is home where I grew up, where my mother, father, and sisters are, where family memories were made? Could it even be a beloved relationship or a sense of belonging to someone that we call home? It makes me wonder, what is the home that truly connects us?
When I think about connecting with myself, I’m not talking about some ‘woo woo’ thing, like going to a mountaintop someplace and being quiet and introspective and finding a connection to some ephemeral thing [chuckling]. Nope, it’s, I don’t know, a feeling of connectedness, a feeling of belonging, a feeling of being centered down over myself. Have you ever experienced that?
The place where I grew up, I don’t necessarily love, I don’t really enjoy going there as far as being in the city itself (too many bad memories I suppose). However strange it may be, there’s something about it that just makes me feel connected. Is it mom? Is it my sisters? Is it the home that mom has lived in for 30+ years that is familiar to me? Is it mom’s things and the energy I feel from them, or is it simply seeing my mother and being in her presence?
When it comes to my hometown, I have mixed feelings. Do I feel comfortable because I grew up there most of my life and went to school there? There are certainly a lot of connections there; going to church, being in the ministry, singing, working, and all the activities that entails. No matter, there’s an inexplicable bond that draws me back. Perhaps it’s the familiarity of my mother’s presence that runs through all of it.
When I look deeper into the concept of home, it begs the question; Where do we feel connected, comfortable, and authentically ourselves?
There are as many answers to that question as there are people. We are all so different. There are people who had horrible relationships with their mothers, fathers, and families while growing up. That “home” is very possibly the thing that drives them the furthest from themselves! The last place they would think of connecting in a positive way would be home.
So where is home and WHAT is home?
Is it a feeling that connects you to yourself through a positive circumstance or a happy point and place in time? Can a favored memory become a connector to your blissful place? Is it a specific culture or camaraderie with a group of people that you associate with? Maybe it’s your work, or your church. Whatever that place or that group of people would represent to you, could that be the place you call home?
As for me, my mom and her home serves as my anchor, though her diminishing health adds a layer of melancholy. Witnessing her decline feels like losing a piece of myself, diminishing my sense of home in the process. It’s very sad.
This connectedness, tinged with sadness, forces me to confront life’s inevitable transitions and what they mean for me. How will I adapt? How do I preserve my connection to myself as life changes? And, most importantly, how can I embody “home” for my children, grandchildren, and loved ones?
I aspire to cultivate a sense of home within myself, regardless of my physical location. It’s a journey I’m committed to, one that requires introspection, love, and presence in every moment. I certainly don’t have all the answers and I’m ok with that. I embrace the uncertainty that comes with age, recognizing that it’s okay not to know everything.
The “home” that we all seek, the love and acceptance and the place of connection that we all desire, is quite elusive. Maybe it’s what keeps us on our toes, and keeps us searching. Yet amidst the uncertainties, there’s solace in knowing that home is not merely a destination but a state of being. Home is a place where we can truly be ourselves, embraced by love and acceptance. And though the journey may be long, I’m committed to finding that place where I can just be, where I can be connected to myself and say, “this is a good place. I am home.”
