“Home is where the heart is.” We’ve all seen it cross stitched on a pillow somewhere. This phrase, intended to comfort, always floods me with a sense of confused uneasiness. When too many places hold my heart, where do I call my home?
Three years ago I exchanged a familiar home in Michigan for an unfamiliar house in Thailand. In the first few weeks away, my whole being ached each time I thought of the friends, family, and life I left behind. However, as the months passed, Thailand undoubtedly stole my heart. I adored the language, food, landscape, schooling, and culture, but above all, I loved the people I met. Strangers became friends and those friends became family.
My new love never replaced the affection I felt for those I left in America, I realize my heart just grew larger. I amazed myself with my own capacity to feel so connected to two places at once, but also confused myself with how disconnected I often felt from both places. Like most third culture kids, I dislike the question, “Where are you from?” When asked this I find myself awkwardly formulating a wordy response, attempting to explain the places I’ve lived.
My family moves back to Michigan in a few days. Grandparents, aunts, and uncles in the States, eagerly inquire if I’m excited to come “home,” while friends and teachers across the world ask about my feelings and grief towards leaving “home.” Where is home? Hours I ponder this question, identifying myself with things from both cultures. I consider where I fit in groups of people. I attempt to understand where I belong.
Home is where the heart is… right? Wait, but countless friends and family hold bits of my heart. Not just in Thailand and America, but throughout the world. Where is my home then? Do I not belong anywhere? Actually, I don’t… well not in this world at least.
Hebrews 13:14
“This world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come.”
A sense of peace overwhelmed me when I realized I don’t need to understand or figure out where I fit on this earth, because, guess what? It’s not my home. Although difficult when belonging seemed a necessity, I rejoice that I left what I thought was home to start someplace new. Without true roots anywhere, I feel third culture kids truly understand not belonging to this world.
Although I accept being but a wanderer now, I celebrate in knowing where my true home will one day be.
Blessings,
Hannah