Home.

I can't explain why, but "home" seems to be ringing in my ears this morning.  Over the last few weeks, I've been struggling with guilt over my brain starting to plan for home.  I've only been here about six weeks, but I've thought several times about what I'll pack to leave, how I'll say goodbye, what I'll leave here, what I'll take and where I will go along my journey back "home."  Part of this is the planner in me.  I actually really enjoy packing.  It's a fun game of Tetris, moving blocks around, trying to find the perfect spot for each strangely shaped object to go into my bags.  Sometimes, you feel like the Tetris block either doesn't have a perfect spot or it comes too quickly to place into the correct spot, thus leaving a little, or even big, gap of space that could have been filled by something.  As I was writing this bit about Tetris, I realized that I stopped talking about literally packing and started thinking about my life.

Now, now, Mer, don't get TOO contemplative on us.  It's not even lunchtime!

But here's the thing, for the last several years of my life, I have been playing an epic game of Tetris.  Yes, it's involved packing and unpacking, shifting boxes, making decisions about books, candles, pictures, clothes, shoes, food, etc, etc, as I figure out how to "physically" move from Marion Center to Greensburg to Palestine to Marion Center to Chicago to North Carolina to Chicago to South Dakota..  It's also been a crazy game of Tetris as I figure out how to fit all of these pieces into my heart.

Last night, some of the women who are here with a retreat group, a group of sewing ladies from Minnesota, asked me what I thought the best solution for Israel and Palestine was.  I let out a deep sigh and found myself crawling onto my soap box.  My cheeks began to flush as I started talking about the facts and figures of water, land and history, but my heart started to swell as I remembered Majdi making me mint tea everytime I visited.  And the time that Im Nadim told me that Nadim didn't want to come back to school if "Miss Merry wasn't there."  And that time Im Yusif's face lit up when she saw me walk unexpectedly into her living room when I last visited Bethlehem.  "My heart is still in Palestine." I always say.  And that's true.

My heart is also in Marion Center, as small and frustrating as that town has been over the years.  My heart is in Greensburg, where my alma mater, Seton Hill University, just celebrated another year's Homecoming; I wasn't there...again.  My heart is still in Chicago, where my seminary community is alive and flourishing with a new year, a new group of students and a new president.  My heart is still in North Carolina where my "summer parents" made me fall in love with pimento cheese, "Blueberry Yum Yum," grilled peaches, cornbread...and even watching some NASCAR.  Gasp!  Not to mention the places where my heart is currently stretched: Bethel, Williamsburg, St. Paul, Chicago, Chelan, Denver, Austin, etc, etc, as my friends and family are all over the United States...and the world.

So, Meredith, this is turning into a rather whining post about how much you miss people.  Yes, I miss people, but it's not just "missing" them.  It's realizing that with each new move, with each new place, with each new community of people, I'm playing Tetris.  I'm moving things around as fast as they come, trying to squeeze every new experience in, terrified of making a gap where something or someone else could go, and worried about my heart filling up and running out of room.

My "home" is not a house.  It really hasn't been for a long time.  My mom bought a house during my senior year of high school, where I lived until going to college and on breaks.  That's "home" as in where my family gathers, but not really home anymore.  Home is in my family and friends, stretched far and wide.  Home is also in my experiences, my memories of sunsets over the Mount of Olives and grilled peaches on a warm North Carolina night.  My home is in the way I am re-energized by Skyping with a friend or sending a care package.

I began this post by admitting some guilt over my brain trying to figure out how to pack when I leave.  I think I'm busy playing Tetris again.  Where does Pine Ridge fit into all of this?  When people ask me how internship was, will I answer, "My heart is still in the Badlands with the people of that reservation."?  Who's faces will flash when I hear the name "Pine Ridge"?

The scary part is that I already know the answers to these questions.  I will answer that it's where my heart is.  I will fit Pine Ridge into the Tetris puzzle space.  I will see Gabby's face, and the toothless grins of children and the arms of an auntie reaching out to hug me.  I will be changed by this, since it already has become home.

A lot of this contemplating occurred after reading this awesome article that really describes me, I think.  Not to mention this song called "Home" by Philip Phillips.  My favorite lyrics are:

This is where I called "home" for this week's day off.

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

That's where I'm at folks.  Thanks for being "home" for me over the years, whoever you are, wherever you are.