Home is where the heart is

I was born at home. I came into the world, literally, in the bedroom my parents still sleep in to this day. I obviously never moved around as a child, and so for most of my life my concept of home was fairly fixed. When I think of home, I still picture my parents house, my house, with all the memories that have become embedded there for me throughout my life: getting ready for high school dances, birthday parties, Christmases, Thanksgivings, family game nights of cranium and Mexican train dominoes around our dining room table, cooking with mom in our kitchen, falling asleep to countless movies in the living room and waking up to find that everyone had already gone to bed and left me asleep on the couch. When I think of arriving home, I still picture a golden retriever bounding into the driveway to meet me or a timid cat seeing me and diving down the hallway before I can get to her.  All of these images make me smile because they are who I am, where I come from.

As an adult, however, my concept of home has changed significantly and I am starting to realize that as cliche as it sounds, home really is where the heart is. I have left tiny bits of my heart in numerous places throughout the world, in Denton, Carrollton, Dallas, Houston, Tampa, Antigua, Cochabamba, and I realize that these places too, will always be home for me. 

Yesterday, I arrived home for the fourth time. From the moment I stepped off the plane and out of the airport in Guarulhos, smelled the (70 degree) air, and listened to the portuguese whirling around me, I breathed a sigh of relief and said, “There’s no place like home”. Two years have passed since I have seen the familiar streets of São Bernardo do Campo and yet after only 12 hours of getting settled in I feel like only weeks (if that) have passed. There are many things that make this place home for me, the majority of which I can’t even put into words. 

One of the things I can articulate, however, is the hospitality. After only a few hours I am  realizing (again) how closed off my life is in the U.S. I never answer the door if I am home alone (it’s probably just a solicitor). My door remains locked at all times, even if I am home. Sometimes I open my blinds in my window, but never the window itself (wouldn’t want nosy neighbors being able to see me.) I drive straight to school/work and straight back without having to interact with anyone except the voices on my ipod. I arrange my schedule to be as time efficient as possible, allowing the minimum amount of time possible to get places. When I run into someone I know on campus, if I am lucky, it is a polite head nod and hello, keeping in step since I have to make sure I get everything done on my to do list that day. No time for unscheduled encounters. 

Here, the window in my little apartment was open before I even moved in, just as are all the windows (and many doors) of my neighbors. Within 10 minutes of me arriving, my neighbor Dalva brought me a “vitamina”, a smoothie with mango, banana and melon. When she realized I hadn’t eaten she immediately told me she would make me lunch and within the hour I was sitting at her apartment across the courtyard enjoying my first delicious almoço of rice, beans, meat, carrots, mexerica and the best (and strongest) coffee in the world with her and her family. Throughout the day people came by my window (still open) to introduce themselves and welcome me. Dalva came back with more melon in the evening for me to try and waved at me every time I left my apartment. I know that any time I venture out to do something, I should leave as much time as possible to do so, because you never know when a chance encounter with an old friend on the street is going to turn into a 45 minute conversation.

I have always been somewhat proud of my efficient self. There is nothing better than knocking items off my to do list. But I wonder where in the midst of that list I am missing beautiful opportunities to experience the grace of God, the hospitality of others, and even extend hospitality myself? Where am I missing the open windows, the smell of fresh air, good meals, great coffee, encouraging conversations, fits of laughter and joy? Maybe I should start putting these on my to do list down here. Maybe my to do list should be reduced to one item that I make sure I accomplish each day: Just be. With myself, with God, with others, just be. 

Welcome home.