Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Wednesday, December 05, 2012
Monday, December 03, 2012
Home
I mentioned in Friday's blog post that my writing again for Lab Tails felt like I'd come home.
Since then, perhaps because it's the holidays or because of my recent mid-life restlessness --whatever the reason-- I've been thinking a lot about "home."
I've not, however, been thinking about the geographic location or physical structure sense of the word. Don't get me wrong: I'm exceedingly grateful for four walls and a roof and a bed and heat and clothing and food and for all the physical amenities with which we associate the sturdy structures in which we live.
My thinking about "home" is less tangible. It's more about where we
My heart's true home includes all of these (and more). What amazes me is how much my canine critters contribute to that intangible sense of home.
When I come downstairs first thing in the morning or return from being away (no matter how long), the crew welcomes me as though I'm the most important person on the planet (well, okay, so maybe it's more like I'm the only person on the planet, but you get the idea).
They don't care about what I'm wearing, or how much money I have, or how impressive I am (or am not), or what I've done (or not done), or where I've been, or who I've been with, or whether or not I'm important to society, or whether or not I've accomplished anything.
They're just glad to see me (l'il ol' imperfect me, warts and all).
And because of their eager greetings, their enthusiastic affection, their wiggly ability to put me at ease and to make me smile--their unconditional acceptance of and love for me-- over and over again I feel like I come home to the kind of home that needs no geography or address, a home that I can carry with me in my heart, a home to which I can return no matter where I am or what circumstances I find myself in, a home that's impervious to tropical storms and the world's expectations.
Elsie, Kenya ,Chessie, Pinot, and Tuc may live in our house, but they (along with my human family) provide me a home. It's the way of it with Labs.
Maybe that's why returning to Lab Tails feels so like a homecoming for me. My hope is that LabTails can become a sort of "home" for you, too.
Won't you come in?
The canine crew's eyes are hopeful, their tails are a-wagging, and their slobbery tongues need more faces to kiss.
We hope to see you soon.
Until next time,
Joan
Since then, perhaps because it's the holidays or because of my recent mid-life restlessness --whatever the reason-- I've been thinking a lot about "home."
I've not, however, been thinking about the geographic location or physical structure sense of the word. Don't get me wrong: I'm exceedingly grateful for four walls and a roof and a bed and heat and clothing and food and for all the physical amenities with which we associate the sturdy structures in which we live.
My thinking about "home" is less tangible. It's more about where we
- are known
- are loved
- are accepted
- don't need to perform
- are able to be ourselves without apology or shame
- experience comfy familiarity
- enjoy rest, and comfort, and ease
My heart's true home includes all of these (and more). What amazes me is how much my canine critters contribute to that intangible sense of home.
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| Home |
They don't care about what I'm wearing, or how much money I have, or how impressive I am (or am not), or what I've done (or not done), or where I've been, or who I've been with, or whether or not I'm important to society, or whether or not I've accomplished anything.
They're just glad to see me (l'il ol' imperfect me, warts and all).
And because of their eager greetings, their enthusiastic affection, their wiggly ability to put me at ease and to make me smile--their unconditional acceptance of and love for me-- over and over again I feel like I come home to the kind of home that needs no geography or address, a home that I can carry with me in my heart, a home to which I can return no matter where I am or what circumstances I find myself in, a home that's impervious to tropical storms and the world's expectations.
Elsie, Kenya ,Chessie, Pinot, and Tuc may live in our house, but they (along with my human family) provide me a home. It's the way of it with Labs.
Maybe that's why returning to Lab Tails feels so like a homecoming for me. My hope is that LabTails can become a sort of "home" for you, too.
Won't you come in?
The canine crew's eyes are hopeful, their tails are a-wagging, and their slobbery tongues need more faces to kiss.
We hope to see you soon.
Until next time,
Joan
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