Anyone who wonders if they're welcome back at home.

I am always longing for a place that feels like home, for a place that is a home. I've wanted people and places to feel like home that never could, but I've also known spaces that have felt overwhelmingly comfortable, like I belonged there. I want to feel like I matter somewhere. I want to feel safe. I want a place where I can rest and be fueled in order to go out every day and do. Because I want to do things that matter.

Honestly, I moved to Greensboro (the second time), because I wanted to feel at home. And I do. But if you could flashback to the first time I moved to Greensboro, you would find a girl in the midst of something that has no resemblance to a homecoming. This place has been so many different things to me.

This city has been my enemy. There have been days and months and years when I have wanted out. I have wanted freedom from this place. I have wanted a choice, a chance to leave the prison that I created for myself here. I have been angry at the people that put me here and forced me to stay. I have fought hard against new people and places knowing me here. I have wanted to hold onto my past, because there was a time in my life when giving Greensboro a place in my heart felt like letting go of the beauty and comfort of my foundation. I never want to forget where I have come from and how I got here. There is so much to remember and be thankful for before I ever even stepped foot in this city.

This place had been my best friend. I have cried and complained about having to leave her for a time. I have loved the comfort of these places that fill my days. I have loved the people of this city and the diversity that my community has to offer. I have found hope and transformation and love and redemption all in this place. I have known the joys of newness and the wonders of old things that still feel brand new here. I have loved big here. And the second time around it was very much like a homecoming.

Here, I've known both heartbreak and the joys of a full heart. I've done tears here, lots of tears. But I've also done smiles and laughter and talks full of meaning and hope and possibility. I've hated it here, and I've wanted to be anywhere else, but I've also loved it; I've found myself angry and sad and confused in the times that I've had to leave. But, then again, I've also found myself missing the comforts of somewhere else.

It feels so unstable when I look back over the journey that has been my experience with this city. I've loved other places too, but here has been different. Here I have found healing that feels like the breaking of chains that have held me captive for so long. No place has met so many of my longings all at one time while simultaneously leaving me feeling afraid and alone and looking for more.

This is my home. These streets are my home and these people are my home. I like my neighborhood and my backyard and the restaurants and stores that fill this place. I also like my neighbors and the people that fill my days.

But home is not always easy and I've struggled to accept and come to terms with that fact. Pain and confusion and disillusion fill my pretty little home. Death and suffering, you have no place in my home, and yet here you are, filling the time and space that make up this place. Who knew that a place full of redemption and wonder and awe could so quickly turn to a place full of sadness and anxiety? Can all of those things exist in the same space? Yes, redemption is here, but so is humanity and the inevitable cracks that attempt to compromise the fullness of our hope. Sometimes it's all just too much.

I can hold a mean grudge; I know I can and I usually know when I'm doing it. It's not one of my more favorable qualities. I have a tendency to get stuck dwelling on things that I think ought not to have happened. It's particularly deadly when I can find a specific person to aim all of the grudging energy towards (whoops). I'm trying to work on it.

More recently, I have found myself frustrated with my home, with the city and people that make up this place. Home should feel safe and it hasn't. Home should be a place of rest and I've forgotten what rest even looks like. Home should be a lot of things that have been stripped from us recently, and I am angry about it. Can you hold a grudge against the people and places that you call home? I think I am doing that right now.

"Regardless of what you feel or what I feel, I hope, pray and believe that there is something after this."

A sweet friend and woman of wisdom recently spoke those words to me. How I wish that I could learn to speak them to myself. So often, when I write I feel like I end up saying that same thing over and over again. Apparently, I need repetition. Her reminder saved my heart from the trap and allure of a grudge that I was never meant to hold.

Is the bitterness still there? Well, yeah. But I can see clearly now the damage it has done in the past. This isn't the first time I have held a grudge against the people and places of this city. This isn't the first time darkness has penetrated my safe place. But this is the first time I have been able to look back and see all of the beauty my Father created out of that darkness. It doesn't make the darkness any more light and it doesn't make the ugliness any more enjoyable, but I have been able, for the first time, to remember that there is something after this and that I believe with all of my heart that he will do it again. He will bring light out of darkness and create beauty from ashes.

I believe those things. And my prayer is that I wold learn to move forward in expectation of them, leaving the grudges behind.

It's not really about this place. I love Greensboro and I love North Carolina. From the bottom of my heart, I love this place. Sometimes I expect too much out of my home. I've come to realize that home is here and home is there and home is everywhere in between. I'm glad. I really never thought that home would feel like anywhere other than right here, but home is where you are. Home is where you are living, home is where you dwell. The journey has been both painful and rewarding. It has been full of ups and downs. The journey home is not yet done.

That's the kicker. That's the part that knocks me off my feet every time I have to relearn the lesson. I love my home, but I am also searching and longing for more. I am also restless. I need more out of my home than this place can give. One day I will know what it is to feel at home and to feel content at the same time. It's hard wanting something that I know I can't have. But I hope to continue longing for that day all the while knowing that home is here and home is now.

Thank you for a home that I can lean into.