There is a strong relationship between home and yearning. When you are young, you yearn to get away from home. As you age, you yearn to find home again. For some, this means a return to home. For others, it becomes a realization that such a return is impossible. You’ve changed too much, and home has changed too much as well. Even if you manage to return, it isn’t the same.
To make bread or love, to dig in the earth, to feed an animal or cook for a stranger—these activities require no extensive commentary, no lucid theology. All they require is someone willing to bend, reach, chop, stir. Most of these tasks are so full of pleasure that there is no need to complicate things by calling them holy. And yet these are the same activities that change lives, sometimes all at once and sometimes more slowly, the way dripping water changes stone. In a world where faith is often construed as a way of thinking, bodily practices remind the willing that faith is a way of life.
∆ Barbara Brown Taylor
Home, imagined, comes to be. It is real, realer than any other place, but you can't get to it unless your people show you how to imagine it—whoever your people are.