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Come Home


Vintage VW Bus brings back memories of coming home from the beach.

There have been different moments in my life when I have heard these words.

When I was a child playing at the neighbor’s house, it began to rain “Come Home” I heard from my mom.


When I was out with friends in high school and I no longer felt comfortable, I had hoped someone would call me to “Come Home.”


In my adult years, I have heard this phrase in good times and difficult times.

From Scott after being gone for work “Come Home, I miss you.”

From my mom when my dad was sick, “Come Home, he is not doing well.”

From my girls, “When are you coming home? We need help with dinner.”

From Scott’s mom when we are visiting, “I made cinnamon rolls, come home.”

Every year when I go beach camping in the summer or apple picking for my birthday,

I feel like I have Come Home.


Every Autumn, Erin Iler Comes Home to apple picking.

The phrase Come Home has always been a state of being, not a location. I have felt Home in many different places and with many different people in my life. And with that, I have realized some lessons about what qualifies as a Home.


It is no secret. Our home is not huge, it is not perfect, and by no means will I ever receive an award by the American Organization Board of 5 stars.

But what I would hope it would win is a star for comfort and feeling welcome.


We recently had the opportunity to travel. Although we love to travel and see new places, there was a nostalgia of coming home. I find that more and more, I appreciate the nooks and crannies of our old 1937 home, that has marks of love around the house. It has a story that cannot be replaced by any Smart Home or 21st century technology.


I also know that with anything there is a trade off. We all know in our home that the water pressure is quirky, the old furnace takes a beating in the winter, and because Scott is determined to rescue many pets, well our furniture will always have some blemishes on them.


Living in an age when there is frequently a commercial for something bigger, and better, we have to work hard to defy materialism. It’s a race that no one in my opinion will ever win.


If you choose to compete, someone will always have something newer and something bigger or better. It’s also a fine line of how to teach our children that as well. Finding contentment within yourself, within your space that you call home has become a Mantra I truly hope they will embody.


When I came home to my small vegetable garden, I saw that the sweet peas were blooming and the first sunflower decided to bloom. We picked the flowers and placed them in the kitchen window. It reminds me that small blooms can bring big bursts of joy.

I am happy to come home.


“Come home” is what I have said to my girls many times in the past 14 years as a mom.

My hope is that it is not a derogatory phrase, but a feeling of respite. A chance to take a breath and exhale. Home is comfortable, it’s being vulnerable, it’s showing the good side and not so pretty side of who we are.


I hope that each one of you has a place you feel you can Come Home too.

If not yet, don’t give up. You can create that sacred place, in a special room, a meeting spot, a group that accepts you for who you are.


These are the words you should feel in your heart when you have found that place,

I am so happy you have Come Home.




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