I recently became aware that for some "unknown" rationale I have not moved into my house. I moved here two years ago and have claimed some of it, but for many reasons, I have not unpacked and personalized several rooms.
Most of my life has been spent (Ah ha! - "spent" because, yes, life is currency!) in temporary mode - on the way to something else. I constantly put my life on hold. "My life will be great when I'm a size 6 and have thick, straight hair." "I'll get the right (insert: job, life, man, outfit, body, attention, fame, success, income, etc) when I'm thin. "I can live like this until I get something better."
I felt so rooted to my Ben Lomond home - like many generations of my family had been there before me - even though I'd never seen it prior to buying it in 1999. In 2007 I sold it and bought a home in Folsom so I could have more family time and connection. It was a long, painful decision-making process. I realized that it was more important WHO I was with than WHERE I lived. But part of me hasn't moved here yet.
I now know that I need to have my home in my heart. My roots need to be in my beliefs, not in a place or condition. It's my connection to my beliefs and people I love that enriches my life and gives me joy. So I shifted my image of needing permanent, immovable roots to feel safe and secure. I recognized that I came into this life equipped with an anchor, one that I can cast out wherever I happen to be. My anchor holds me steady and serves me whenever I need it. It's portable and always available. My anchor is my faith that everything I need will come - that I can make my home beautiful and claim my space even if I don't spend the rest of my life here.
As I drifted away from blogging regularly I began to feel the deep sense of having no anchor to hold me safe and steady. I realized that, like my connection to my family and friends, my writing is an anchor for me - it helps me feel safe. I'm feeling safer already...