The Way Home

What's home to me? Where's home for me?

It's hard having two homes. And the more time I spend here in Ottawa, growing closer to the people I live with,  becoming emotionally invested in the people who surround my physical home, and creating bonds with the people who are outside my apartment but close to my heart, the harder it is for me to go back to the place I came from. Where my biological family is. The family I was born into and didn't choose. When I first moved away, I was 18 and shy and scared. I was so ready to leave the farm, the only thing I had ever known, and live in the big city. A city I had only visited 3 times before. But as we got closer, the more nervous I became. By the time we got to the university to get my student card, I was almost visibly shaking. I had made a huge mistake. I didn't know anyone here. What was I going to do?? Why didn't I go to Windsor, 3 hours away and close enough I could home every few weekends? Why didn't I go to Brock, only 2 hours away and even closer so I could go home even more often? Why didn't I apply to more universities closer to home? I chose to go to a university in a city that was a 6 hour car ride or an 8 hour train ride in a city where I didn't know a soul. These were thoughts I was having at 100 km an hour all while waiting for my number to be called so I could have my picture taken for the student card.

Finally, it was called and my picture was taken, the card printed and my meal plan loaded on to it. My mother and I had the rest of the day to do whatever we wanted so we explored the city a bit. That night, we met up with a family she knew from her high school and university days. I put a name on the list of people-I-Know-In-Ottawa.

And that's how it begins. A few days later I met the person who would bring about a lot of change in my life. I would start going to these weekly meetings for a club on campus where I would meet some of the most important people in my life. I have come to know and love these people. Move in with these people, grow with them and be inspired by them. Cry and laugh and scream and be dramatic and discover new (hipster?) music and make food and outrageous plans and watch videos and go to movies and sing and dance and love my neighbours with these people. I am loved by these people. When I'm with any combination of my friends, I always catch myself looking around at least once and thanking God so much for placing them in my life. I'm always reminded of how blessed I am to know these people.

That is what home means means to me. And as I prepare to leave the home I have made for myself, by myself, to go back to my parent's home for 3 and half months, I find that I am the nervous 18 year old again. I've grown away from the very few friends I still had there, so the only people I have are my parents, sisters and grandmothers. I wouldn't say I've grown away from them, but I've changed so much in the last 3 years. When I go home, for a few days, a week, everything is the same. Nothing has changed there and I'm scared I'll regress. I don't want to go back to the self-conscious, unapproachable, so shy I-have-a-hard-time-speaking-to-people-I-don't-live-with person. The person who did not have a relationship with Jesus. I want to keep growing. I don't want a 3 month speed bump.