In His Greatest Name; the most Gracious, most Merciful.
“Home: one’s place of residence.
Homelessness: having no home or permanent place of residence”
That is how the Webster dictionary defines those terms.
From our early childhood, we are taught that “home” is where our families reside, where we are always welcome, where we can find warmth and serenity. Through that, we start to adapt to the perspective that home is a physical manifestation of an emotional attachment.
Basically, home is layers of brick upon brick, covered with paint, and splashed with happiness.
How wrong that turned out to be.
You see, according to that definition of “home”, one should feel home after spending a while in a place.
Yet I have been here in the United States for almost a year now; I’ve visited 6 different states, and resided mostly in the room of the University’s dormitory. Yet not even for one fleeting second did I feel at home.
So I’ve come to the conclusion… I am homeless.
Essentially, most people in this world are homeless. They are homeless because four walls, paint, and a bit of furniture will never be truly a place for which they long.
I’ve learnt that home, that comfortable place where a warming fire never fades, is in the passion of our souls.
Home is the words I spill on these pages. Home is the music in which I loose myself. Home is the company of a true friend. Home is the grass in which I lay after a gruesome soccer game. Home is in words of wisdom and poetry that I’ve read over and over again. Home is the piece of art which catches my soul before my eyes. Home is that minute or two where I kneel down before God, and truly acknowledge His mercy. Home is the light of righteousness lit by those we follow.
Yes, home is in the happiness of a simple action we take, or a permanent thought we gather.
Before finding that feeling, we are all in a homeless encounter. No matter the walls and furniture, true passion in a true moment is where the warmth of belongings really exists.
A lot of people ask why I delay my return home; I say that I am, in fact, like all, always homeless- except for a few moments a day.
“Home is where the heart is,
The soul’s bright guiding star.
Home is where real love is,
Where our own dear ones are.
Home means someone waiting
To give a welcome smile.
Home means peace and joy and rest
And everything worthwhile.”
–Author Unknown
Serenity and peace.
