Home

The most difficult question someone could ask me is, "Where are you from?"  There should be a simple answer to that, but when you've grown up all over the world, there's not really one place you hold on to as your "hometown."  Chris and I have been in Dallas for almost 18 years, so I guess we could call it Home, but isn't Home the place you return to?  The place you go for Thanksgiving or Christmas?  The place you take your kids to say, "Right over there is the hill where I learned to ride my bike..." and "That is where I went to elementary school..."

Simply put, Home has always been where family is.  Whether that's been on the East Coast, in the South, across the ocean, or here in Dallas, Home is where your loved ones are.  Because isn't that really where we are from?  Home is not so much about the physical place, but about the memories in that place.

My Mom seemed to always be intentional about creating memories with us -- as if she knew that our memories would be the thing that define Home for us.  There are definitely some "big" memories, but the ones that seem to stick most are the small ones -- like surprise sleepovers that she would arrange for us, like getting us up for the sunrise service on Easter morning but softening the blow with homemade sweet rolls, opening one gift on Christmas Eve, family dinners around the "fancy" table, very intense Yahtzee games, singing around the piano.  There were also memories that weren't as picturesque, as my Mom and I think differently and tended to clash on our approach to things.  But there are also those moments and memories of talking it out, explaining our sides, and agreeing to disagree and still have each other's back.

So if you ask me where I'm from, I will tell you that Home is where the heart is... Which means a big part of Home is wherever my Mother is.


Happy Birthday, Mom!  And many more... xoxo