My daughter and I just got back from a whirlwind 4-day trip to New York City. And I’m so glad to be home. Nothing like being in a bustling “city that never sleeps” to inspire appreciation for home.
Not to mention the crazy, sad, and tragic events going on in the United States and around the world recently. It’s hard to process it all and to get back into the rhythm of writing and housekeeping and managing day-to-day life. I feel exhausted and sad.
And at the same time, so happy to call this place home.
I’m wondering: what makes a house a home?
It’s quiet here in our suburban neighborhood. As I sit outside on my front porch swing in the early morning writing, I don’t hear any cars or buses, only birdsong. I am savoring the sunrise and flowers and greenery along with my tea. I am home.
Our home feels safe and cozy. Familiar. Warm. There is love here that we’ve nurtured and built up over time. Love that has seeped into the wood grain of the floors and the walls I painted myself. I notice the dining room light fixture that I adore for its stark beauty and simplicity. I have sweet memories of so many games of rummy cube played at the dining room table. Many meals and holidays celebrated there. Laughter and tears and hugs.
Last night, as we walked in from our trip, our dog Gus greeted us with ecstatic joy.
Gus is beside himself excited to see us. He runs from one end of the dining room to the couch in the living room and back again, over and over. When Gus is excited, he sounds like Chewbacca and wags his whole body.
Then my daughter sits down at the piano soon after we’ve unloaded the car to make music. We go for a walk in our beautiful neighborhood and through the local park just as the sun is setting. Lila points out that the sky is pink and orange on one side and gray and blue on the other. A beautiful moment.
As we returned home, feelings of peace and warmth and love swept over me. (At the same time, I was very aware that not everyone is so fortunate.)
This house has been our home for over 20 years. How does this becoming a home happen? Maybe it’s the love and connection between the people who live there. Because it’s really all about love. Built up over time.
This is how homeschooling is, too. Built up over time, invisible layers of love and learning and memories. And at this moment, at a time when our world seems crazy scary and overwhelming to bring up children in, when awful, tragic things are happening all around us every day it seems, I want to have the courage to show up, to be and share my best self with my children, my family, friends, and the world. And I want to teach this to my children.
None of us thrive by isolating ourselves or by being silent. We need each other. And I am once again so very grateful for Waldorf homeschooling and the time, the shared activities, and the connection that it has offered to our family.
May you be at peace.
May you find the courage to make your life a blessing.
May you find your way home.
If you want to meet others who are also on this heartfelt path of Waldorf homeschooling, consider joining me, other experienced presenters, and homeschoolers from all over North America at the summer Taproot Teacher Training for Waldorf homeschoolers.
What a thoughtful and heartfelt post. I think we are all feeling the pinch of the modern world, perhaps this day more than ever. Thank you for sharing your wisdom.
I truly wish I *could* be at Taproot, and I wish you all much joy – –
Thank you, Penny. I think of Walt Whitman “the world is too much with us” only it’s worse than that. So much collective pain. I’m glad I shared this today because it seems to be resonating with a lot of Mamas. I wish you could make it to Taproot, too. Someday, we’ll meet!
So thankful for this post. We are finding our family In a new town (Boston from San Francisco) and reading your post is so helpful in creating our new home. I so wish I was able to attend the Taproot workshop :-/ working on childcare for the weekend since my husband will be working weekends. Many thanks!!
A new home, so special! And a coast to coast move, no less. Holding the energy and creating the space is such important work (although not always recognized as that). Enjoy your new home and be sure to be gentle with yourself. Would love to meet you at Taproot if it becomes possible!
I love this. I feel the same way about our house, our home.
Was talking to Siobhan last night about the insanity, and I came away with a question rather than an answer: How do I respond authentically to what is happening in the world at large? I don’t have an answer yet, but your words have added something substantial to my thoughts.
Looking forward to Taproot. As always,
Yes, more questions than answers. And I’m touched that my words have contributed to your ponderings. We need each other, that’s for sure. Can’t wait to hug you in August!
How beautiful! I especially love the end quote in italics such a quiet strength it invokes. Thank you so much.
Thank you, Fran. It really does take courage some days. But it’s so important that we find it. Thanks for being here.
Lovely thoughts and sentiments. I just listened to a Periscope replay from Julie Bogart of Brave Writer, also talking about home. Considering what makes a house a home can bring layers of emotions to the surface. Peace and light, Jean!
Jean this is so beautiful! Thank you!
I know this post was from a few months ago, but I came across it on Pinterest today and really resonated with me. The world just feels so heavy and ugly today and I, normally the incurable optimist, was struggling with finding the beauty in anything. This post reminded me to look closer for the beauty when the big picture gets cloudy. Thank you.
Oh, Amber. I know how you’re feeling. And I’m so glad that my post brought you a much-needed reminder of the beauty we can find close to home. The messages do have a way of finding us just when we need them. Peace and blessings to you and yours.