Thursday, February 17, 2011

Healing, Home, and the Heart

We leave our lovely mountains today. We will return, but I don't think it will still be our home. I no longer know how to feel about this place that has been home for almost five years. And I don't know how to put in perspective the relationships we've built.

It's not that I don't value our friends in the mountains, it's just that I don't have the strength to completely open my heart to a whole new set of people. Nothing makes us more vulnerable than open hearts, and I don't think I can do justice to the emotional investments of any more folks. My heart is already bursting with the people now in it.

There's a phrase in the Bible, attributed to God, "I know mine, and mine know me." This is the ultimate in intimacy. When we open our hearts to others, we often need a group of intimate friends to hold onto us as we enter into love. Only then can we be sure of remaining ourselves, in addition to being at home in our blended selves. I want to spend my last years among the people who I know and who know me.

The phrase, " A friend is someone who knows all about you and loves you anyway." gives me great comfort as I age. Home is really where the heart is, and my heart must be completely open in order to feel at home. My people are part of who I am, and I am a part of my people. My people are those with whom I bond to be stronger together than we are without each other. That is what makes them mine.

I also want to exercise the strength Richard and I have gained, individually and as a couple, in being available those of our people who are vulnerable by virtue of opening their hearts and souls to marriage and children. We want to be with them in their trials and tribulations, as well as their celebrations.

Home is where the healing is. I don't have a lot of faith in anonymous psychology, religion, or self-help without those who know us and our history. We can't help each other heal wounds that we cannot, or will not, see. The deeper the wounds the more we need those who really know us and know where our wounds were formed.

Maybe my mountains will become a retreat where we come to simply rest and be.