I had the wonderful experience of attending my one and only sister’s baby shower this past weekend. I got to spend time with not only my sister (who lives far, far away in a distant land called Florida), but also my parents, aunts, uncles and cousins.


I have been living in the Pacific Northwest for about 2.5 years now, and am starting to really feel at home here. We have found our “tribe,” our favorite places to dine and shop, and I’d say we are adapting pretty well to the climate considering we get just about zero snow (Midwest folks, I know you can appreciate this).


We have learned countless lessons and have grown so much spiritually in the past couple years. I will NEVER regret making the move…it was so right. In fact, life couldn’t have lined itself up more perfectly for us and I am grateful each day.


But if there’s one thing that never ceases to tug at my heart strings, it’s making a visit to see family and friends.


These are the people that know me and love me for ME. No explanation needed, no justification, no feeling like I have to pretend or hide behind “the happy mask,” no pressure. Just good, solid quality time, me being me, them being them, and we accept and love one another for exactly who we were born to be.


They know my story. Many of them were around the day I came into this world, and remember watching me grow up from just a tiny baby and on into adulthood.


They remember my shyness as a kid, my awkward years as a tween, and then they watched me graduate high school as a young adult trying to find my way in this world.


Just the energy of a family visit is very validating. There can be no words spoken, and yet the communication is crystal clear. That is a rare gem if you ask me.


To be around this beautiful energy for three days straight makes you really think about what the heck you are doing with your life. Why am I so far away? Is it worth it? And then, you ultimately start to feel lost, lonely and homesick.


Upon my return to Seattle I was walking from my gate to baggage claim and began to hear music. I looked to my right and in a tiny little corner sat an old hippie man with a long grey pony tail playing guitar and singing. Yep, in the middle of the airport. There’s a first time for everything I suppose!


Only a breath later, I felt the music fill my soul, and a surge of energy washed over the top of my head as if God was speaking to me. Then a little voice in my head said, “Sweetheart, welcome home.”


And all doubt went away. All the questions I was asking myself vanished and I instantly felt calm come over me.


Sometimes we need to be reminded that, no matter what happens, all the answers are inside of US. That no matter where we are physically, we are always at home with ourselves.


Being with my family felt like home. It felt like it was where I was supposed to be. But it had nothing to do with location, and everything to do with the beautiful lesson I was about to learn walking through Seattle airport that day.


Life presents us with some pretty tough love every now and then. But the question almost always is, what is this teaching me?


And although I still miss my family, and still long for those feelings of unconditional love and validation now and then, I know that home truly is where the heart is. And we all have the power, at any time, to come home.

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