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I moved into a new place recently. It is a small cottage in a lovely, quiet suburb. It is easily the most beautiful and peaceful place I’ve had to learn to call home.
I’ve always regarded myself as a homebody. Not only am I an introvert, I prefer to stay indoors. I don’t just want to be alone, I want to be alone at home. I have been through seasons when I never wanted to leave the house because I was uncomfortable being in public and socializing. There have been two such periods which I can recall – once during my teens, and again coming into my twenties. Both these periods lasted about two years.
During these times I would leave the house only when it was absolutely essential. I would be irked even by those tasks which were indeed imperative and required that I step out of my comfort zone. Home was my safe space. I did not necessarily love and enjoy being in the space I called ‘home’, I simply preferred it because it was where I could be on my own, and embrace my reclusive state. This distinction will become important later.
On the other hand, I have been through other seasons during which I felt a deep discomfort being home such that I would look for reasons to stay away. These didn’t even have to be good reasons; any would do. Whether it was being out with friends, at school doing extracurricular activities, visiting relatives – I would be eager to leave the house, and I would dread returning. When I was home, I would itch for reasons to leave again.
Fascinatingly, the reason behind this strong aversion was the same reason that I had, at other times, preferred to stay in; being at home meant being on my own. Though during these times the mere thought made me uneasy. I was uncomfortable with my own thoughts. And after a while of running from my thoughts incessantly, there was the added and overwhelming deterrent that they had become unfamiliar to me. I simply didn’t know how to be with and handle my thoughts – my own stillness was foreign to me. These seasons, too, have occurred more than once in my life, and also spanned an approximate duration of two years.
However, for as long as I can remember, I have never had the experience of loving my home and loving being home. I have never had a healthy relationship with my home. Whether it was my childhood home or a university residence, I viewed these spaces in one of two ways.
I viewed home either as nothing more than a desperate hiding place, akin to how an addict views their drug of dependence – no longer using for the euphoria it may induce, but for fear of being sober. A mere lesser evil.
Alternatively, I viewed home as my demons’ lair, a den of terror to be avoided my any means necessary. It was a place where my thoughts would be forced into the light of silence and solitude, a place which threatened to expose the dark corners in my mind into which I was not yet ready to venture.
When I fell in love with God, my perspective on home changed drastically, such that I’ve discovered that I am a homemaker at heart. Imagine that! I don’t just love homemaking, I delight in it. It actually brings me joy.
I take pleasure and pride in creating a clean and peaceful environment for myself and others. I find fulfillment in tasks such as cleaning, cooking, baking, and decorating in the home. I love to fill the space with lovely aromas, whether through gentle scented candles, a pot of savoury stew on the stove, or freshly baked chocolate brownies cooling on the kitchen counter. I love to set the atmosphere with beautiful flowers, pictures, and furniture.
Along with this revelation of myself, I came to realize that this is the healthy middle I had never known and never experienced – this ‘loving being home’, and also ‘enjoying being out of the home’ was strange.
After all, I’ve learned, it is on my afternoon walks when I take in my surroundings that I realize how much I appreciate nature and flowers in particular. I stop to smell their petals and stroke their leaves. These experiences of mindfulness in my outdoor natural surroundings, bring me to want and appreciate flowers in my domestic space. Being outdoors helps me to appreciate my time indoors even more, and inspires me to make my home the perfect sanctuary for me.
I am ultimately finding that homemaking requires me to be comfortable both in my home and outside my home. Don’t get me wrong, although all things are possible through God, I’ll probably always be an introvert. Even outdoors, I’ll likely always prefer the spaces that are least populated.
Though despite my personality and disposition, I am learning to feel at home regardless of where I am. I am learning that God is my true home, and He is always with me. Home is always with me. I am always home.
– Lele M
Lele Muthali 