The famous quote from Thomas Wolfe, "You can’t go home again," carries a deep and complex meaning. It suggests that after experiencing significant changes in life, returning to where you once lived or what you once knew is never quite the same. After my accident, with its numerous severe injuries, and after the death of my husband, I was, in many ways, forced to "go home again." Yet, my journey has taught me that physically returning to a place is one thing; emotionally, it’s something else entirely.
When I came home, my mom provided me a room. It became my refuge when my house with Jake had been sold and I could no longer live alone. At the time, I was in a wheelchair, needing assistance with everything. Gradually, I improved—week by week, month by month, year by year. Physically, coming home again was possible. But emotionally and mentally, I was no longer the same person I had been.
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| Jan. 2022, off my porch at home |
People often say, "Home is what you make it." For
a long time, I struggled to fully grasp that. After my accident, the concept of
home became more abstract. Over the years, as I continue to live with my mom,
slowly improving, I’ve come to realize that "home" is not a stagnant
concept. Home can be many things, and not just a place. It can be the life
shared with family or friends, the warmth of a community, or even the peace
found within oneself.
I’ve also discovered that becoming comfortable in my own skin has been a crucial part of finding home again. My body is not the same as
it once was, and neither is my heart. But as my physical healing progresses, I
find that the emotional healing runs deeper and slower. This emotional journey
is not as visible as the physical changes, but it is equally transformative.
Still, it’s this internal growth that has redefined home for me. When life
changes as drastically as mine did, we can be tempted to feel displaced. But
I’m learning that a part of home is finding peace in who I am now—accepting
that life doesn’t have to look like it did before for it to be meaningful.
The scripture reminds me, “I will not leave you
comfortless: I will come to you” (John 14:18). God’s promise to
be our constant through all things has provided a different kind of home for
me. It may not always be tied to a place, but it is rooted in His unfailing
presence.
The Contrast Between Physical and Emotional Home
While the physical location and health conditions remained
familiar, emotionally, I was in a completely different place. Returning to the
same childhood home where I once felt secure didn’t mean I felt the same sense
of stability. Having lived apart from my family during my marriage, I had grown
used to life with my spouse. Now, even though I was back in a place where I was
loved and cared for, I couldn’t shake the feeling of something missing. It’s as
though I still carry the void where my person should be.
I’m incredibly grateful to have the support of my family. Their inclusivity, care, and love have given me the strength to continue. But as much as I love the space I’m in, it doesn’t always bring the sense of calm I used to feel because my life has been forever altered. Home, as I once knew it, doesn’t exist anymore. What remains are the walls of my childhood, yet emotionally, I have outgrown them. Scripture reminds us that, “We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4:8-9). I may be cast down, but I find peace in knowing I am not forsaken, even in the absence of what once was.
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| May 2022, WNC |
Grief has a strange way of reshaping what home feels like.
When we experience loss—whether it’s the loss of a loved one, the loss of
physical ability, or the loss of independence—it’s easy to feel disconnected
from the world around us. I lost my spouse, my ability to live independently,
and the future I had imagined. But the healing process has been just as much
about redefining "home" as it has been about physical recovery.
Though I’ve made great strides in my physical health, I still feel that emotional void. The absence of Jake from my life is a reminder that no matter how familiar a place may be, it doesn’t always feel like home. I’ve come to understand that home is more than just where you lay your head—it’s where your heart feels at rest. And yet, the Lord assures us, “My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). It is in my moments of weakness that I see His strength most clearly.
Finding New Meaning in HomeOver time, I’ve had to make peace with the reality that the
home I once knew, with Jake by my side, is no longer possible. But that doesn’t
mean I cannot find or create a new sense of home. It’s about embracing the
present and being thankful for the people who have walked this journey with me.
It’s about accepting the changes within myself and the life around me. As it
says, “For here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come” (Hebrews
13:14). We may not always find the home we expect in this life, but we can
take comfort in knowing we are always journeying toward a home beyond what
we see.
I feel like I’m finally ready to accept myself, to embrace what "home" truly means, and to make peace with any loss or changes in relationships that might come with it. I look forward to this new chapter—or adventure, if you want to call it that—as I step forward with openness and anticipation.
Encouraging Others on Their Journey
I hope that by sharing this part of my story, others will be
encouraged to reflect on their own experiences with home. Perhaps you, too,
have returned to a familiar place after a significant loss or change and found
that it no longer feels the same. Know that you’re not alone in this feeling.
Our homes can change, just as we do, but there is always hope in knowing
that God is with us in each season.
What makes home feel like home for you? Has that changed
with different seasons in your life? I encourage you to take time to reflect
and ask yourself where you find peace, belonging, and comfort in your journey.
Whether it’s through family, friends, faith, or simply learning to be at peace
within yourself, know that home is not a destination—it’s a journey.
Home, Holidays, and the Longing for Connection
As much as I cherish the memories and moments associated
with Thanksgiving or Christmas, I have to admit there’s a part of me that looks
forward to the day being over. It’s not that I dislike these holidays—in fact,
I appreciate their deeper meanings—but the anticipation, the build-up, and the
actual day often leave me feeling more ready for normalcy to return than
anything else.
The holiday season has been tough for me over the years, and
admitting that feels like a step back. I thought I was getting better at
handling it, but some have gently reminded me that certain feelings may never
completely go away. There might always be a small part of me that carries this
heaviness. For a while, I wanted to forget that part—to push it aside as though
it no longer mattered. But I’ve come to realize it is a part of me. It’s
something I’ll carry with me as I move forward, even when I feel ready to leave
it behind. And maybe that’s okay. It doesn’t mean I’m stuck; it means I’m
human.
Maybe it’s because this time of year I long for a different
kind of connection—one that brings a deeper sense of companionship and makes
the holidays feel more complete.
Sometimes, I’ve struggled with that longing and felt guilty
for wanting something more. I’ve wrestled with questions like, Shouldn’t I
already feel content? Isn’t this enough? But over time, I’ve come to understand
that it’s okay to yearn for a profound emotional companionship, to hope for the
kind of contentment that comes with deep relationships.
It’s taken me a long time to get to this point emotionally,
to talk openly about these feelings, and to come to terms with the gaps I feel
and the desires I hold in my heart. This process of reflection has been a
journey—one filled with moments of guilt, surrender, and ultimately, growth.
I want to embrace the beauty of that connection if it’s part
of God’s plan for me, but I also recognize the need to trust His timing and
purpose. This tension—between wanting what I feel I’m missing and trusting in
His plans—is where I find myself now. And while it isn’t always easy, I believe
there is grace in acknowledging this longing and peace in surrendering it to
Him.
While holidays often stir this longing for connection, they
also serve as a reminder of where my ultimate peace comes from. While I would
embrace companionship if it’s part of God’s plan for me, my deepest peace comes
from His unwavering presence and guidance. Trusting in God’s
plans—even when they differ from my own—has become an anchor in these moments,
guiding me back to His presence as the truest sense of home.
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| A little unorthodox work |
Trusting God in Every Step
Throughout this journey of redefining home, one thing has
remained constant—my trust in God. He has not failed me yet. Every time I’ve
needed a new step in my recovery, He has provided the way and given me the
wisdom to take it. It’s often said that, "The steps of a good man are
ordered by the Lord: and he delighteth in his way" (Psalm 37:23).
I have seen that truth play out in my life time and time again.
As I move forward, I know that each step will only get
bigger and harder, but I also know it won’t be impossible. "With men
this is impossible; but with God all things are possible" (Matthew
19:26). Every challenge I’ve faced so far has been an opportunity for
growth, and I trust that the same will be true for whatever lies ahead.
In the same way that God has carried me through each
difficult season, I believe He will continue to provide for me. The Lord
reminds us, “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the
Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end” (Jeremiah
29:11). And it’s in that promise I find the strength to keep going, knowing
that He will lead me through every step of the way.
Recently, I think I’ve overwhelmed myself with the thought
of the next few big steps that I’ll have to take. Then I remember that God
knows my heart and my desires, but it’s in these moments that I need to lay
those desires aside and pray, God, help me to want what You want for me,
whatever that might be. That can be a difficult prayer to pray, but it’s
one rooted in trust, knowing that He made me and is fully aware of the longings
of my heart. “Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the
desires of thine heart” (Psalm 37:4).
I believe He will provide what I truly need, even if it’s not what I expect, because He sees the bigger picture. "For your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him" (Matthew 6:8). Sometimes, surrendering our desires can be hard, but in doing so, we open ourselves to the plans He has for us—plans that may be greater than we could ever imagine. As I reflect on this, I remind myself that everything happens for a reason, and we all travel the path laid out for our lives. “A man’s heart deviseth his way: But the Lord directeth his steps” (Proverbs 16:9).
As I reflect on all this, I remind myself again of Wolfe’s words, “You can’t go home again.” It’s true that I cannot return to the life I once knew. But with God’s guidance, I’m learning to create a new home—a home rooted not in the past, but in His ever-present love and promises for the future. This is the home that will never fade, and for that, I am truly grateful.
Where's "home" for you?
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