Finding Home
Soundtrack for this post: “How Bad We Need Each Other” by Marc Scibilia
Our true home is in the present moment.
To live in the present moment is a miracle.
— Thich Nhat Hanh
Wooden wall panels, creaking faucets, footsteps in the kitchen, tree shadow-tinted windows.
Cinnamon scented coffee in a thrift store-purchased mug, heated coconut oil, mini dark chocolate squares that we share.
Mariah’s laughter echoes from downstairs. I smile. Reba and I find our way back from the grocery store without a GPS.
The first signs of home.
I arrived to Austin in the fall with the challenge to find a sense of belonging and familiarity in a new state. I brought my favorite books, my cross and painting of the Virgin of Guadalupe, and my bedding from my college dorm room. I also brought fear and uncertainty to live so far from my people, the small towns on the east coast that have made me who I am.
Living in Texas has not come naturally to me. I see the shorter trees and flat plains with a foreigner’s eyes. I feel confused by the lack of seasons, the heat that lingers on 67 degree January days. I also have felt overwhelmed by grief and anger as I touch the vacuum of humanity in Texan (and national) politics. I feel conflicted about living in a city that is unaffordable and a state that is hostile to immigrant and Black communities. I know folks who have lived in Austin for forty years and can no longer afford to be here with modern developers taking over their neighborhoods. I struggle to know my role in city council meetings, public protests and Austin Sanctuary Network meetings to advocate for justice in this place.
I live in the center of the city, a sought-after territory, as a short-term tenant. I am one of many young adults who moved to Austin in a search of myself. I live with five (amazing) women in the AYAVA (Austin Young Adult Volunteer/Americorps) House. We live by the principles of a covenant that we wrote. We spend our Sunday evenings sharing homecooked food, checking in about our weeks, and sharing games, thoughtful discussion, and heart-centered questions together.
We will be honest in our communication. We will actively create our home as a refuge. We will be open to collaborating with one another. In our words and in our deeds, we will respect and be kind to one another. We offer each other forgiveness and grace, acknowledging that we are humans. We will tirelessly and consistently work together to make this a community of love. We stay humble by listening to others and speaking up for what we need. We take responsibility for our actions and commit to holding each other accountable as we all uphold this community covenant.
— AYAVA House Covenant
As we struggle to uphold these values, I am reminded that it takes time to shape a community that feels familial and authentic. I believe God shapes it with us, bringing together our life paths in a unique convergence. God empowers me to be my full self here. I can break down with my housemates when the anxiety fills my stomach. I can listen as they share the joys and struggles of working with children. I can cook food and run errands and go for hikes with the people who have become like kin.
Home is a spiritual as well as a physical territory. I find home when I live in the present moment, for God is presence. I find home when I stop to notice the beauty of the sunset painted across the lake. I find home when I practice honesty in my communication and listen to others’ feelings, needs and wants. I find home when I share and receive kindness, however small, as we all need affection.
The love we make in community stays with us wherever we go. With this knowledge as our guide, we make any place we go a place where we return to love. — bell hooks
My dear friend Elena prayed for me this week that voices remind me that my home is in God’s heart. God dwells in us as we live, move, dance and breathe in God’s heart. To come home is also to find my own aching, broken open heart tended by the wild One who gives me life and called me to this place.
Quaker author Parker Palmer writes that “only as we are in communion with ourselves can we find community with others.” It is true that when I neglect or feel disconnected from myself, I cannot be present for others. I find loving communion with myself taking long walks, exploring the side streets of the city, writing in my journal each morning. I also come to know myself through relationship with others — my partner Josh, my housemates, my coworkers — and with God who created us to live in sacred relationship.
Austin is not my home, though I am grateful to be here now. This is a place where I have felt loneliness, exhaustion, wonder, pain, and healing. It is a miracle to be present and watch it all unfold before my eyes.
God’s heart beats here. This moment. Home.
