March 21, 2011


I finally made it back to MY house just before 8 o'clock last night.

It's such a wondering feeling to be home. I can't pinpoint the moment when my house in my northern town became home instead of my parents house. I think it was the first time I went back to mom and dad's for a long weekend, or maybe it was when I went there for Christmast last year. But when I came back to my northern town, it felt like home. For the first time, my house is mine. Granted, I'm just renting it but still. It isn't my parents house, it isn't a college dorm, and it isn't a college rental house. It's a big girl rental house. And I get to make decisions about how to decorate, what to put on the wall, what kind of kitchen tools I want/need, I'm only limited by my checkbook.

I love having my own place but don't get me wrong, it has it's downfalls too. I had to go to the grocery store on my way home last night which cost me $74. When I got home I had 4 bills waiting in my mailbox for me and I know I have at least 3 more on their way. It was quiet in my house last night. I love having my personal time, time to decompress, but it was sooo quiet and lonely after spending the whole week prior with my family.

But I would say that the good out weighs the bad. I love my house, and most days I love being a grown up.

Unlike my house, I can pinpoint the exact moment when my parents church felt like home, and it still does. It was my freshman year of college. I was really struggling with what I believed. I was trying to decern if I was just blindly following my parents beliefs or if it really was what I believed in too. I went home for Christmas and I went to the candle light Christmas eve service with my family. When we walked into the church our pastor was there greeting people at the door. He shook my hand and said "Welcome home". He had no idea the internal struggle I was going through, or where I was in my faith, he was meerly welcoming me back from college. But it was at that moment that I felt at home, and I knew that this is what I believed. And I still love going to my parents church. Since I work at a church, going with them is a treat. I get to worship instead of work. At my church I'm looking around, seeing who is there, making sure the acolytes are doing their jobs, worrying about what I need to do during Sunday school, giving children's sermons, just about any BUT paying attention to worship and actually worshiping. So it's really nice to go with them.

I didn't plan on writing about church and faith today, but I guess it was meant to be becuase it just came spilling out.

Hope you're having a great day!

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