HOME.

Ok so for the past few days I have been sick with a tummy bug. I hate being sick. I hate sickness. As soon as I was somewhat better, there I was rubber gloves on cleaning up the kitchen. In one of those moments where you snapshot your life, I wondered why is it only me that would be cleaning after just recovering from being sick? I was dizzy and a little bit crazy, but there I was cleaning. Isn't this a strange habit to posses? I have come to realize that even though I am messy sometimes- I am really a clean freak. I don't know whether this is good or bad. I enjoy perfection. I enjoy design and when I walk into a space I feel it on my skin. Isn't this normal?! Apparently not for most people my age.

This has become one of the contention points within my house (full of gorgeous and some very single ladies from all over the World). I genuinely appreciate acts of service, it is how I love people and how I serve those whom I live with. This is not a 'gift' that many people afford to give. It is one that I crave others would give to me and to be quite honest- (in my moment of delirium after a tummy bug I will be honest) I get ticked off when people leave mess and then in order for me to enjoy space, I have to clean up their mess? For example: toilets. If you do a #2 be gracious enough to not leave it, or the running track of it at least. Or someone makes toast, not using a plate and then for the rest of the day the remains of the toast crumbs sit on the bench waiting for an unsuspecting bug to chomp it up or else me to clean it up. Or another example, when someone washes the floor- rather than brushing it up and then mopping, they decide to do a two-in-one-job and mop the hair and dirt into the sides of the wall. oh what a delight for someone like me... Am I controlling? wouldn't anyone get frustrated?!

I have a longing, not to live alone or be a hermit- but to have my own space. I dream of putting my furniture there and coming home to an atmosphere with lit candles and sweet smells of home cooked food. I desire space where I can listen to music and be captivated by the sounds of what lies outside my window. I desire peace. I want a place where I can read, write songs, paint and delight in the space provided. I want to wander across the earth and to bring back memories in pictures, artifacts and textiles into my home. I desire to invite and share with people in my home. Tea, coffee, chocolate and charity events. Gardening clubs and cooking lessons. Writers clubs, cheese and wine tasting. Art exhibitions and fine art lessons. Delight.

I know Im only 22 and that most people my age are not that concerned with these things, but inside I feel ready to make a home. It's not about being married or having kids (although they would be nice in due time) this is about space. HOME. It's funny how I imagine this place, and although this might be my desire in my mind I reckon I am longing for something else. I am longing for Home that may be available in an expression on Earth- yet is only that, an expression HOME. I am reminded of that song by U2 that exclaims;

walk on. the only baggage you can bring is all that you can't leave behind. a place that has to be believed to be seen. Home: hard to know where it is if you've never had one. Home: I can't say where it is but I know I'm going. All that you build and all that you break.

How do I know that this physical home I desire exists? Is it my Western mind thinking for me? Or is it a desire that I have already tasted of? What is home? What is home to those who have never seen it?

Last week I walked down a street that from where I first stood looked like a beautiful suburb. As I walked under the night sky towards this street I was aware that this was not the picture I first imagined. I was expecting a new suburb to fall in love with alongside the few others in Sydney I have found. This was no such place. I could see inside some of these homes, although the bricks and mortar looked beautiful with overlooking balconies and trees that lined the center street, there was a restlessness there. Kids were playing after 11pm and running around these streets, young men scurried into corners and drugs were dealt even with street lamps shinning. As I reached the end of the street there were around 20 people homeless laying under a bridge. I have never collectively seen so many people homeless. I was challenged. I was scared. I wanted to run away and forget the images I had seen. What really is home? Is it space?Is it place? Is it rest? Is it peace? Im restless with these thoughts. I am so blessed.