Five Minute Friday: Home

Five Minute Friday


No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font, or punctuation.

Unscripted. Unedited. Real.

5 mins of writing on a set topic.

I’ve decided that if I ever wanted to do more writing….and to really get serious about it then I need to be able to just write.  Simply write.  So I’m going to join some friends linking up at Lisa-Jo’s blog and we shall see what fun ensues…..

So here goes….


The desire to put down roots is so very strong.

I’d love to be like a tall and solid tree – arms reaching out – giving shelter from the blazing sun come the middle of summer, dropping leaves of all shades of red, orange and brown come fall and standing strong and bare in winter.  With roots down deep.  Ain’t nothing gonna touch that tree.

But as much as my heart longs for a place for call home, to be like that tree, a place where it doesn’t matter if the toddler puts a hole in the door while riding his horse/ mop, a place where we can pen in the heights of the boys as they grow, grow, grow.

The truth is I don’t have a place to call home. And I most likely won’t for some time yet – if ever.

In all honesty home for me isn’t around my parent’s dining table, nor around their fireplace.

It isn’t the student apartments I lived in, with slanted floors and draughts through which the winter wind could freeze a gallon of milk.

Home is not the houses I lived in when first married and then to where we brought home boys one, two and three.

I guess for me, home is a church, being a part of a group of people where I can raise my hands in worship, totally uninhibited.

Home is my friend Rachel’s couch, where we can talk for hours and hours, drink good coffee and eat good food but we’re nourishing more than our bodies.

Home is my friend Lindsay’s kitchen, where a group of us women gather weekly to pray.  To lift up each other, to champion each other and remember who and what we’re all about.

And also, home is in my husband’s arms, with my precious boys all around us. Regardless of the building we’re in, the walls we can or cannot decorate, whatever country we’re in, home is knowing I’m surrounded by love and living by love and loving this adventure called life, no matter where we are called to be.


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