A Place called Home

You say you want to go home,

as if it were a location.

You make the place the affiliation of an affection that you hold.

But if I may be so bold.

A place called home can't be put in physical parameters,

the scenes you know, or the bed you hold so dear.

If only it's definition were so clear.

But home is more from the associations you make,

and a love that you take with you.

And to many or few, that love that you show will carry your home

beyond borders, cultures and customs.

For your heart may lay in many a place

for while you were away you embraced something bigger than your own creed.

And I pray your path lead you in such a way,

that your faith grow, to carry the love that you have known

to those without hope,

And among those you find

A place called home.

This piece, without fail takes me back to the feeling of lostness and depression that comes over me when returning from a missions trip. I wrote this on my return flight from being in San Quentin, Baja California. I had been there to help with KFN Mexico, and I left a little bit of my heart there. 

Part of the inspiration was being irritated with the people on my team talking about how ready to be home they were, to have their own bed again. I don't understand them, and admit I make little effort to. I feel like life is best lived beyond your own culture, when you learn to see the world through a second cultural lens. It's not an easy road, but the sheer beauty of it makes it worth the hardship.