Home.

Home is such a confusing word for my family right now.  It's not that we feel homeless.  Quite the contrary, we feel incredibly blessed to have 2 or maybe more places to call home.  But what is "home"? What makes a place a "home"?

Fresh from a visit to the US, we have been using the word "home" to mean 4 or more locations over the past several weeks.  We went on a trip home (to the US), we went to my home (where I grew up), we went to our home (our house on the big river), then daddy went home (his boyhood abode), then we came back home (our house in Brazil). 

We had conversations like "when we get back home...(to Brazil)" or "when we move home...(to the US)" or, "You can have a snack when we get home (to Grandma's house)"  "We left that toy at home (choose a location!)" The kids kept saying "which home?"  Understandably confused....I feel that way sometimes too.  M has taken to calling our US house by the street name.  We call our place here "our red house" and so on.  Really, it didn't start with our US visit, but that really magnified it. 

It goes beyond our family too.  We chatted with another expat yesterday, and she asked "how was your trip home?"  Since she also lives here, I naturally assumed she meant our flights back to Brazil.  I started to answer regarding the long flight, the airport closures, going through customs with 6 bags, 7 carry-ons and 3 kids, the chauffeured car that picked us up, etc and then I noticed her bewildered look.  She was talking about the US "home." In other words, how was our trip back to the US?

I wondered why I didn't see it that way.  Am I that settled here?  I honestly don't feel uprooted.  Though I know I am most certainly NOT Brazilian, and do not have any intentions whatsoever of staying here beyond this assignment, it was not particularly hard for me to return, other than tearful goodbyes to loved ones.  But I have the One who is everywhere, I have my one life mate and my 3 little people.  I am in a place (at least figuratively speaking) that God intends me to be.  And while I was so glad to be able to see and spend time with family and friends, to make new memories with them all for our kids, and to go back to some places that we love, our home is where we are.  We prayed hard about the decision to do this, to come here, to uproot, to adjust and then uproot again.  We felt divine guidance in our decision.  Maybe that's why being here, living here, doesn't feel so hard to me.  It's hard to explain. 

So, we've been talking about the difference between a house and a home.  We've been discussing if things, or people, or places make a home.  We've made verbal lists about what we would need in a place to be able to call it our home.  (The list is far shorter than it would have been before our move here.)  And we've been talking about taking Him with us, wherever we go, and making sure that where we are is where He wants us to be.  I guess that provides an awful lot of stability in a seemingly uprooted life.

(...and if you're feeling cheated because there are no posts or pictures from our trip, just bear with me.  I have a lot on my "to blog" list!)