The home in which I grew up did not feel like a safe place. I never felt “at home,” or that I belonged there, or even that it would last. The relationship between my mother and step-father was very dysfunctional and sometimes even violent. There was always someone angry, and sometimes things were broken as a result. There was judging followed by punishing one another by stonewalling, using the silent treatment or, even worse, acting like one another did not exist. An uneasy tension in the home prevailed. I feared that some kind of angry outburst would erupt at any moment. Walking on eggshells would describe it best, and I did not want to be the one to break those fragile shells.
My mother often refused to talk to people who upset her, and sometimes the silence went on for years. We had a family dog, a funny poodle named Missy whom I dearly loved and played with. Mother was annoyed with her, because she had a habit of barking a little too much. One day I came home from school to discover that 8-year-old Missy had been taken to the Animal Shelter. There had been no discussion, no warning, and no opportunity to talk about how I felt. It was Mom’s decision; she did it; and that was that. This, like so many other things, was never again mentioned. The silence was overwhelming.
A failed marriage in my early twenties intensified my feeling of not belonging anywhere. Everything fell apart, and I found myself with no home, no stability, and not even custody of my child. I really felt lost—as if I was not able to function well enough to find my way in this world.
After a year or two of these struggles I began seeking the Lord. I had grown up in a church with very nice people, but there was no real instruction from the Bible or about how to trust God who always seemed so far away. When someone shared the truths of the Gospel with me, I was ready to believe that God did indeed love me and that Jesus paid for the sins in my life. I found a lot of comfort in that and began reading the Bible and attending a church. I began to feel like I had, indeed, been rescued from a difficult life and that there was a place for me in this world.
I married again, and my new husband moved me to his small hometown in Vermont. The long winters were cold with gray skies, and the summers were very short. Although this was hard on me, I believed this was where we were called to be. I was active in our church, with our five kids at their schools, and with their sports activities. I did my best to create a life there, but even though we were married thirty-four years, I never felt like it was my home. I was depressed and grew more and more unable to function.
The doctors said I had seasonal affective disorder, and they recommended a move to a sunnier climate. Instead, my husband bought me a full-spectrum light and said that would solve the problem. Using the light daily did not help me. As the kids grew older and moved on, I longed for sunshine, for hope of sunshine and a possible move, but my husband would not consider it. The coldness of the climate was no match for the coldness in our relationship as communication ceased and silence became the norm. I hated the silence. But the worst part of all was that he didn’t hate it. He liked it. Again, I felt the familiar dread of being non-existent to someone I loved.
He initiated a divorce, and I moved to the Sunshine State, where I would find warmth and sunshine. I hoped to find a life where I would feel at home. I hoped to find a church, to earn some money to support myself, and to have some friends who enjoyed similar things. It has been a little bit of a struggle, but the Lord has blessed me enormously, and He has shown me how to trust Him and how to make a life that serves Him and gives me meaning and joy.
I live far from my grown kids, and I do get lonely for them; but they stay in close contact with me. They are happy that I am here where the sun shines and that I am emotionally well. I do miss their closeness, but they are so supportive. I also have grandchildren that I see as often as I can, and I can’t really complain. God has shown me that He is able to meet my every need, even the emotional ones.
One day I decided to find a little dog as a companion. I searched on the computer and found a female mix of Dachshund and Chihuahua—a Chiweeny. She was eighteen months old and had been abandoned, with 2 little puppies. By the time I rescued her, the puppies had been adopted and she was by herself. She was shy and scared, but she bonded with me quickly. Emma was tentative about her place in my home, preferring to sleep on my bed and to be close to me. She seldom explored, and it took her a while to feel safe. She eventually grew to enjoy seeing my friends and receiving the attention they lavished on her.
Emma and I moved to a house with a fenced yard, and she seemed very happy with that. In the 4 years I have had her, she has become more and more comfortable exploring the whole house, trying out a different chair or the sofa in the office. Emma loves her yard and chasing little lizards and squirrels even though she never catches them, which is ok with me. When I leave the home, Emma knows she gets a biscuit and trusts that I will come back. When I arrive, she greets me most passionately, and she gets a chew bone.
I don’t know what Emma’s life was like before she came to live with me, but I don’t think it was good. She really doesn’t like sharp words or the banging shut of a door or other unexpected noises. But she is much more at home now than ever. Recently she discovered that the guest room has a nice bed, and she enjoys taking her afternoon nap on it where she is able to see out the window and bark a greeting at passers-by. She is now comfortable anywhere in the house, and I find myself looking from room to room to find her. And I love that she comes looking for me after she wakes up from a nap or it is time for her walk. She has free reign here, and she knows what I “owe” her in terms of treats or meals, and she unashamedly reminds me. She is a little spoiled, I guess.
It makes me happy that I rescued Emma and have been able to provide her a good life where she feels safe and “at home.” I know she’ll never give me the silent treatment or turn away from me. Emma loves me, and I do love her and am grateful for her. Having her makes it feel more like a real home to me as well. Occasionally I still feel that awkward sense of not belonging anywhere. But when I watch her feel so comfortable because I have made us a nice home, I remember that My heavenly Father has been at work helping me make this home and life that we have. And like my little Emma, I can unashamedly remind God of the needs I have and the promises He has made to take care of me. He does provide, all the time, because He loves me.
And God frequently reminds me that He is at work preparing a forever home for me with Him in heaven. This world has many troubles and difficulties and so much sadness. God rescued me from many hard things and broken relationships. He gave me a new life, and He is at work in me to be all that He wants me to be. The Bible says that we are aliens and strangers in this world and warns us to not feel too comfortable here. God has lots more for me to learn and to do—helping people, encouraging people and being a light that shows others Who He is. This world will pass away one day, and for the first time I am thankful that I don’t feel too “at home” here on earth. My ultimate home is in heaven where pain, sickness and sadness do not exist. The blessed hope I have is that one day I will be there in that wonderful and permanent place with Him, feeling perfectly “at home”!