Home

What defines home? I mean what is it really? I’ve come to think of it more as a “what” than a “where.” I’m not like someone who grew up in a military home where they were moving to different states every year or anything like that, but I’ve moved around enough to consider myself somewhat as a nomad. When people ask me where I’m from I respond “Minnesota.” But I haven’t set foot in that state for nearly 4 years. And I only spent about a quarter of my life there. I spent more time in Illinois actually. But Illinois isn’t home for me. My parents live in Boston, so if I were ever “to go home,” it would be to Beantown. When I apply for jobs and list residencies for background checks, two of my last three are in California (the other being here in Utah). I feel at home when I’m out there, spending time with people that are as close to my as my blood relatives. And of course, Provo. As much as people dog this place, I love it. When I leave for extended periods of time, I long to be back. I love the environment – being surrounded by my friends and extended family. It’s a lot of fun. It feels like home when I get back to my small little house with my two best friends as roommates. So where is home? Minnesota, Massachusetts, California, and Utah. And Hawaii. Because who wouldn’t want to live there. So where doesn’t really do it much justice. Where isn’t home? I’ve loved everywhere I’ve lived. Why? Because of what’s there. What is home.

Home is family and friends. Everywhere I go, I have had some sort of family. Whether it was mom and dad and sisters or the best friends I could ask for; there has been a web of support and trust and love. This is the key component for my idea of home. There must be the unconditional love of a family. I’m grateful for the people in my life who help contribute to that. This is the easiest to explain and I could list hundreds of examples, but I think everyone knows what I mean so I’ll skip going into great detail here.


Home is natural beauty. God has done a pretty good job with the whole creation bit. Everywhere I’ve lived, there has been an abundance of this. In Minnesota there are beautiful forests and lakes. Places of solitude and peace where I can retreat. I love that. In California I could go and listen to the sound of the ocean for hours. It’s wonderful. And here in Utah, I’m not sure there’s anything quite like the grandeur of standing on the side of a mountain. These things move me in ways I can’t fully articulate. Wherever I go though, I need this connection with my Heavenly Father in order for me to truly feel “at home.”

Home is familiar. Don’t misunderstand this next part – I love new things. But I need repetition and familiarity. Not in a mundane way, but in a comfortable way. I like driving on the same roads, seeing the same landmarks, eating the same things, having a (flexible) routine. I like things like that. I don’t find it boring. It’s just a reflection of home. When I think of Minnesota I think of driving past Fish Lake and I-94. I remember getting an oreo shake at Potbelly’s. I remember looking out my window at the two large trees that overshadowed our backyard. In California I remember breakfast at Beach Break Café and taking the turns in the Pacanos’ neighborhood and the smell of the ocean as you turn onto the PCH from Tamarack. Here in Provo it’s the walk home from classes past Smart Cookie and J-dawgs. It’s the towering presence of Mt. Timpanogus whenever I face north. I have done all these things so many times they have become synonymous in my mind with each unique place.


So those are a few of my musing thoughts about home. Again I reaffirm that loving relationships are the foundation. I could never have home without that. If it were possible to live in an extremely ugly place that had no elements of familiarity, and I had loved ones with me, it would still be home. But without them, no matter how beautiful my familiar surroundings, I couldn’t feel that sense of home. Home is love. And I’ve been blessed with a mansion.

A Mother's Influence

I think it’s something that a mother prays for often. Maybe always. I’m not a mother so I’ll probably never know. I’m writing this not to confirm that my own mother’s prayers have been answered in this regard but to attest to all future mothers the tremendous power of a righteous mother’s example. Sons notice.

Sons notice the way a mother cares. Maybe not always. Maybe not during young, formative, nor adolescent years. But eventually we do. I’ve been extremely blessed by my mother’s caring influence. And whether she knows it or not I noticed. I noticed the time she went out of her way to cook me breakfast when I was running a little late. I noticed how she tidied my room when I needed a clean place to ponder. I noticed how she cleaned my car before a big date. I noticed.

Sons appreciate the way a mother talks. There is no one here on earth whose advice I value more. I’m not exactly a talkative person. Growing up, as I matured into teenhood, I talked less and less to my mother about the problems that I had in my life. How did she respond to this shutting-out? She patiently waited and persistently made herself available as a listener. If she was under-used in my teenage years, perhaps now she is over-used. I appreciate how she challenges my thinking – she doesn’t just validate me. I appreciate her constant reliance on gospel principles and church leaders. As we discuss hard issues, she immediately asks “Well, what does the prophet have to say about it?” I know where my mother’s priorities lie and it comforts me.

Sons need the way a mother loves. Everything I’ve talked about can be thrown in this last category. Perhaps I am using this category to avoid a never-ending blog about the virtues of motherhood. If one thing has determined who I am, it is my mothers love. It is the reason I’m writing this post. My mother has been out here in Utah the past few weeks for the birth of her first granddaughter. I’ve never once doubted my mother’s love, but receiving it day after day in person as opposed to over the phone has caused me to reflect and ponder and marvel about it. Conversations we’ve had about life have changed me. And I feel to rejoice at the relationship we have. She has loved me with all her heart and for that I will be eternally grateful.

Never underestimate the influence you will have on your future children. Coming from a son who was changed (and is changed) again and again due to his mother’s actions – you make a difference.