Finding HoME Inside of ME

Recently I wrote about an experience that occurred while my oldest son was on his Mormon mission. Going back into the space of memory lane can evoke so much emotion, especially since my life has evolved into something that looks nothing like I thought it would when I was young. During those years as a believing Mormon I saw only a woman whose life would feel safest fully circled around the family and the Mormon church as these were “home” to me. As I have revisited pieces of my past, one lesson has continued to surface: sometimes the deepest peace comes not from life unfolding the way we hoped, but from learning how to loosen our grip on what we cannot control.

The twists and turns of my life have brought me to a different place and I have been learning, with a lot of practice, how to go with the flow. While the journey has not been easy, I am so grateful I have found my way into the space of coming back home into who I really am. 

What I knew to be home while growing up. Here I am at Halloween with two of my brothers.

For the majority of my life, the concept of "home" seemed just beyond my reach, and I believed it was something I needed to create outside of myself. I was a person that was constantly thinking about the future within the family I was raising. Looking back I can see how intentional I was in the hopes that our family would remain close and I’d be able to keep “home” close to me - some of the things I did were big, like creating beautiful traditions, adventurous vacations,  and making sure the holidays were special - and many, many of them were the small things, like reading stories before bed, making sure my kids had breakfast before school, a packed hot lunch for school, sitting around the table for dinner as a family, waiting up until my kids returned from late night activities, and having family home evening* every week. These were only a handful of the quiet ways I tried to build a home. 

One such example of my intention as a mother I found when rereading one of the letters I had written to my oldest son while he was on his Mormon mission. Here is a portion of what I wrote:

“Crazy turn of events in my life this week---I learned that the Applefest Parade is on the same day as the marathon [I was planning to run].  Can you even believe that?!  Well, my plans changed in an instant and so now I am running the half marathon so that I can be at the parade by 10.  I can run a marathon any year but I will only be able to see [my second son] march in front of the band twice.  There is NO WAY that I am missing that!  It got me out of running 20 miles yesterday and I don't even feel sad about it.  I was getting super burned out from all the miles anyway!  Plus, I am going to smoke the 13.1 miles that I do get to run!  It is going to be awesome!”

Even though I was married, the marriage was out of balance and we were not equally yoked. For the majority of my marriage, I spent a significant amount of time alone as my now ex-husband was either serving in high-demand church responsibilities or chasing after his personal hobbies. 

In the same letter written to my son, I also included the following:

“Dad is officially in Utah on a mountain top preparing to go and find a monster elk.  I've been doing the anti-monster dance for a while now.  Don't hate me for saying that.  I want him to get one, just not a big one!  I do not want any more animals hanging on our walls!!!  We shall see what he is able to do.  Hopefully they do see animals!  He was super excited to go and I am happy that he was able to do it.  He was overdue for some mountain time!”

Reflecting on those years when I was intently focused on being a mom, I realized I wasn't simply raising children—I was building what I hoped would become a lifelong home for all of us. It has taken me years to admit something that once felt almost impossible to acknowledge. Beneath all of my love, beneath all of my sacrifice, beneath all of my devotion lived an expectation - not because I was trying to be manipulative or trying to keep score but because somewhere deep inside of me I believed that if I loved enough, worked hard enough, sacrificed enough...love would stay.

This was 'home' for 26 years before I decided to divorce.

Then...

Transitions.

Divorce.

Healing.

Children becoming adults.

Different perspectives.

Different loyalties.

Different choices.

Life unfolded differently than I had planned or imagined, and home once again felt just beyond my reach.

Years ago, I remember hearing my ex-husband speak often about how blessed we were because we had a "quiver full" of children. Years later, when our marriage was ending, I received a letter in which that same image had changed. Instead of a quiver full of children, he wrote of having a quiver full of ways to hurt me.

That letter forced me to confront a painful truth: I cannot control how another person chooses to use their influence. I cannot control the stories my children believe. I cannot control another person's desire to wound me. Standing in this current where the flow of my life was especially rough, I had to make a critical decision: I can choose whether I spend the rest of my life trying to fight the current or I can learn to move with it.

As I leaned into the space of learning to flow, the miracle wasn't that the river became calm; it was that I learned how to move with it.

One of the greatest lessons of my recovery has been learning that love and expectation are not the same thing. Love works best when it exists without expectation. Expectations often become attempts to control outcomes we were never meant to control.

Standing where I am today, the question guiding my inner compass is no longer, "Why didn't life turn out the way I hoped or planned?" It has moved to, "Who do I choose to become now?"

At home in ME.

Like a double-edged sword, the letting go has been heartbreaking and liberating.

The letting go has brought me to a place where I have discovered that peace is not found in trying to control the river; it is found in trusting myself enough to keep moving with it. Surprisingly, this has brought me to the place I was always in search of: home.

The irony is that after years of searching, I discovered home had been waiting inside of me all along. 

Letting go.

Ebb.

Flow.

Trust.

Peace.

HoME.

Like the pioneers of the past who often circled their wagons before resting for the night, somewhere along my own journey, I realized I needed to do the same. I would not do it with wooden wagons but with boundaries, with truth, with self-respect, with compassion.

My healing has taught me to circle my life with the things that keep love in and shame out and it was in this space that I finally found the peace I had spent so many years chasing after. 

Home was never something I needed to build around me.

Home was someone I needed to come back to.

Boundaries.

Safety.

Harmony.

Peace.

The circle protecting my hoME.

I hope the same for you.

The trajectory can change! 

With so much love and encouragement,

The Modern Day Pioneer