Finding Our Way Home

One year after my Dad started his steep decline into dementia, Mom is now repeating what he used to say, almost word for word. “Where am I? I want to go home. This isn’t my home.” Early this morning, the maintenance guys at her complex called me. They found Mom scratching “anyone ever home?” on her car window*.  (*Don’t worry. We hold the keys to her car.)

The longing for home is innate within all of us. Our search for home can take our whole lives. This season of Christmas tends to intensify that longing, leaving many of us feeling empty. Whatever “home” is, we realize we don’t have it.

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