Gran's Apple Butter Blog

October 19, 2010

Going Home, Excerpt: Home Within (3/III)

Filed under: Book Series,Books,Front Porch Rambles,Going Home,Gran,Home,One Real Home — Mary Batson - FrontPorchRambles @ 8:51 am

Chapter 3 – Home Within
from Going Home, by Mary Batson

You see, Gran believed home wasn’t a place, but rather a state of mind. Or, as she’d put it when she was feeling particularly philosophical, a state of no-mind. She’d get all excited, talking about the idea that if we could detach from our preconceived notions about what home is and how it must be, we might discover we already are home.

Maybe we’d see that all these homes we create and visit and return to here on Earth are simply pale reflections of the One True Home we spend our lives trying to reach. We long for it, aching for it, crying for it sometimes, not realizing we carry a perfect seed of that home hidden deep within, where we can cultivate it with each word we say, each thing we do. Not realizing that the warmth and light within this seed is enough – far more than enough – to meet our needs above and beyond anything we can begin to imagine. Not realizing that the home we have so hungrily sought has been buried deep in our hearts the whole time, there where we were least likely to look for it.

Then Gran would start quoting those lines about the lilies and the birds: “They toil not, neither do they reap,” she’d remind me, love glowing from every well-earned wrinkle on her cheeks. She said we only need to trust and let go in order to feel as cared for as our little feathered friends. And the best part, she’d go on, is that it’s true. She’d been there, she’d felt it. Just like those lilies, we already have all we need to feel at home, to reach home within ourselves, if we can only relax and step away from our expectations about what Home really is.

Gran’s eyes would come over all misty as she’d say this, and she’d sniffle a bit and then laugh at herself. “Silly me,” she’d exclaim, “How can I laugh and cry at the same time over something so beautiful?! Maybe I really have been reading too many books!”

I don’t think so, Gran, I don’t think so. All I know is, I can remember how your eyes would shine when you’d tell this story – so bright I was sure I could see the home fires dancing through them. You’d say the words and I would feel them, and my heart would open and I could imagine a beauty, a love beyond compare, something just like you, Gran, only even bigger and better, although that seemed almost impossible.

Years later I read your words and they struck me once again, driving their message to the center of my being. Those lilies hit home, Gran, in more ways than one. They went straight to the heart of the matter – and straight to the matter of my heart.

© Mary Batson, Going Home, Front Porch Rambles, and Gran’s Apple Butter Blog, 2010. All rights reserved.
Download Chapter 1 or order your copy at!


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