You Can Go Home Again

Our family moved away from our community when I was nine years old. The visits back home were most frequent the first year after we moved. Our house on the farm was still 'home'.

Eventually, all of our belongings were moved out of that house and it was rented out. And so began the slow realization that our home now belonged to someone else.

Trips back home began to mean sleeping over at My Sister's home (she was a newlywed when we moved out of province). Sleepovers at My Sister's home helped to make up for the loss of our home on the farm.

I was quite young when I stopped returning home with my parents. My life, my friends and my future were in our new province. I was painfully shy and finding it harder and harder to go back.

The years went on and my trips back home became few and far between.

I was 26 years old when Mom and I returned home together for a visit. Little did I know that trip would be a catalyst of a Time of Great Change for me.

At that time, I was pregnant and living in an abusive relationship. All of my friends were the wives of my husband's friends and family. Each and every one of us was living in a dysfunctional situation. Our friendships were forged out of a shared source of pain. I looked at those friends and I felt like the lucky one. Each of them were dealing with something far worse than me.

Then I came 'home'.

I was surrounded by the goodness of my family. My present-day life came into focus. I privately vowed to myself never to return home again. I saw the contrast between 'life as it could be' ... and 'life as it was'. If I was going to honor my vow " 'til death do us part" ... I could not bear to witness this other (healthy) side of life.

Little did I know at the time, that less than one year later I would pack up my children and head back 'home'.

We moved to a city which was one and a half hours away from our home town. I had cousins in the city and an aunt and uncle that I could call on, if necessary. I didn't call.

My little family built a new life in our New City. Friendships are not built in a day. But a solid foundation was being laid for the new friends that would enter my life and never leave.

Ever so slowly, my heart and soul healed. I was raising my children during this evolution. Life was not perfect, but it was returning back to the healthy environment in which I was raised.

The bonds between my siblings and my mom have always been strong and true. But they were fortified and they have flourished throughout the years since I moved my family back 'home'.

I continued to see cousins, aunts and uncles as a distinct and separate entity from myself. It was as though I was on the outside, looking in. I would have liked to become part of that circle but I still struggled with the courage it takes to make those forward steps.

Five years ago, I returned to our home town for a Homecoming reunion. Five years ago, a seed was planted which changed the course of my life. Five years ago, my mom found two of my cousins and an old friend. She gathered us together at a table and we visited as though a lifetime hadn't elapsed since we last talked.

Little did I know, the chain of events initiated by that moment would alter the course of my life, my thinking, my confidence and my being. Five years ago ... I started to come home.

This past weekend, our home town held another reunion. I walked into the weekend with high hopes but few expectations. I arranged it so that I could stay for the entire weekend. The first night, I went to bed and thought "What have I done??"

It takes a lot of energy to initiate and hold a conversation with someone that I don't know well. I felt the 'quiet me' taking up residence in my body. I kept pushing that shy girl to the side and moved forward. But I couldn't go back to my home in the city to build up my reserves for the next day. How could I do this for three days without that fortification that I get from being within my own safety zone in my home?

Fast forward to the end of the third day at our reunion.

The weekend was wound up with a non denominational worship service on Sunday morning. The hall was full to capacity. Surrounded by friends and family, we paid tribute to our community, our forefathers ... to the past, present and future.

My heart was full. Me. The stoic one. Had a lump in my throat the size of a grapefruit as the music spoke to my soul. Tears leaked out of my eyes as I allowed the emotions to surface. Each and every person who sang, spoke or contributed to the service defined the community which I proudly call home.

I am a part of this community. A very, very small member at large. But this is where my roots are. I tentatively stepped into this weekend feeling like I didn't really belong here. I walked away three days later ... knowing that without a doubt ... that I could go home again.

I'll be back ...