A few months ago, someone suggested that I write a reflection on “knowing where you belong in this time of leaving ‘homes’ we’ve made.” It’s something I’ve had to think about for a while to be able to write something even remotely coherent.
In order to reflect on the concept of “home” and a sense of belonging, I feel the need to first define “home.” A quick Google search says that “home” is “the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.”
I have some alternate definitions. In my opinion, home could be:
A place you long for
A place you’re familiar with
The place you’re called to be, whether you like it or not; a place you are at peace with because it’s where you’re meant to be
Some “homes” could hold more than one of these definitions, and I would argue that even people could be considered “homes” as well—but that could be a whole post for another time.
During the four years of my undergraduate experience, I had 4 different addresses at which I could be reached, save a few different box numbers here and there. At different points in my college career, I called Bismarck, ND; Roma, Italia; Tempe, AZ; and of course, Brookings, SD, my home. I could also throw in there the times I lived in Sioux Falls and at the Broom Tree Youth & Family Camp last summer as well as all the time spent traveling the Diocese of Sioux Falls the two summers before that. Trying to make sense of all of those people and places and what they mean for me now is extremely confusing and sometimes heart-wrenching—I left pieces of myself in all of those places, and I miss all of them dearly.
When reflecting on this, the following Scripture passage came to mind:
As they were proceeding on their journey, someone said to Him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” Jesus answered him, “Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest His head.”
-Luke 9:57-58
Here, the Lord is explaining part of the cost of discipleship. As in, if you follow Me, you won’t necessarily have a place to call home, because even I don’t. He and His followers probably found places to stay during their travels, but they never really had a permanent place to call home.
It’s easy to correlate that passage to the reality of doing Totus Tuus for a summer—you literally stay in a different place each week for 8 weeks, living out of a duffel bag. But the correlation to the rest of my college experience may have been less obvious, until now. The only school year that I stayed in the same place for the full 8 months was freshman year. Sophomore year, I went to Rome for the spring. Junior year, I went to Arizona for the spring. Senior year got cut short and I had to leave with a month left in the spring semester. When you sign up for Totus Tuus, you sign up to live out of a duffel bag for 2 months. When you sign up for college, you don’t expect to live out of a few suitcases for 4-month intervals. But I would argue that that, too, is part of the cost of discipleship. To be a disciple of Jesus Christ is to follow wherever He may lead, even if that means packing up your life every 4 months to move somewhere else.
The cliché response to all of this would be that Heaven is our true home, and until we get there, we are simply pilgrims on a journey towards that Home. But that answer doesn’t necessarily satisfy the inner turmoil that all of this has created. As far as my earthly life is concerned, where do I belong?
The people who know me well (or who follow me on any form of social media) could tell you where I would go in a heartbeat if I got the chance: Rome, Italy. 100%. At one point in time, it satisfied numbers 1-3 of the definitions I outlined earlier. Now, it only covers 1 and 2, and that’s something that I struggle to come to terms with, even though I haven’t lived there in over 2 years. I wish I could say that I belong there among the cobblestone streets, the magnificent churches, the ancient buildings, the beautiful language, and the rich culture, but alas, if I belonged there right now, I would be there right now. Sigh, maybe someday (please, Jesus).
As much as I hate to admit it, I think where one “belongs” is wherever they are called to be at that time. As in, we can uphold all these definitions I have for “home,” but where we belong falls under Home Definition #3: The place you’re called to be, whether you like it or not; a place you are at peace with because it’s where you’re meant to be. I’ve always struggled with living fully in the present, especially when it involved being somewhere I didn’t want to be, doing things I didn’t want to do. I clearly remember my internal struggle for the first year and a half I attended UMary—I was at peace knowing I was supposed to be there, but I fought hard against it because I didn’t want to be there. Ironically enough, I’ve been experiencing a similar interior battle since leaving UMary prematurely. I know, right now, I belong in Brookings, SD, even though I could think of at least 3 other cities I’d rather live in at the moment.
Even if we know where we belong, how are we supposed to make sense of all the other “homes” we’ve left behind? I can’t speak to your experiences and all of the places you’ve called home, but my homes have made me who I am. I lived in Brookings all of my life before I went to college, and those years and the experiences contained within them were very formative. During middle and high school and even college, large parts of my summers were devoted to Diocesan events—experiences that continued to mold and shape me as a Catholic and a disciple of Jesus Christ—experiences that instilled in me a great love for my home Diocese. The years spent in college transformed my life in ways I never could have predicted, and praise God for those incredible gifts. UMary, Rome, Tempe, and even Bismarck stole pieces of my heart. They challenged me and made me think in ways I never knew possible. They taught me that I still have much to learn, but I also have much to give. They opened my eyes to the things which transcend us from ourselves to an encounter with the Divine—what is good, true, and beautiful. They taught me what it means to be a good friend, and how to give and receive love.
To make a long reflection short, all the places we call “home” have impacted our lives in ways we can’t even begin to imagine. They have left imprints on our hearts that help make us who we are today. Though we may “belong” somewhere else, we can always refer to those other locations as “home.” Vi amo tutti, le mie case all'Università di Maria, a Roma, ed a Arizona!