My True Home

I often thought that home is in it's physical state. My house, my room, my bed and my belongings. Home is the place I can play where my violin and piano is kept and played, where I can play with my dogs until I become drenched in their saliva, where I'd be running around the house chasing my elder brother like a mad man and stuff.

After leaving for college in Shah Alam I missed that home. I missed the soft pillows, I missed my large and soft bolster, I missed the water heater, I missed the bed and the piano. I so wanted to go back to Ipoh and sleep there for good. I didn't want to stay in Shah Alam.

Also, the food there was bad. I never complained about Malay food for one thing. I love curry and spicy food, but when was the last time I had Hokkien noodles? When was the last time I ate Char Siew - Chicken rice? How long was it when I last patrionised my favourite banana leaf stall in Ipoh?

Food also was part of my home.

I realised, in no time to come, that I was after all living in a disillusioned world. Because all that attributed to my home was not really my home after all.

One Sunday morning my parents visited me and came to my church. I was delighted! They worshipped in my church and listened to their sermons. They met up with the pastors and my friends and seniors from INTEC in church and we went out for a good meal and catching-up in Klang later the day.

As I was busy sharing my experiences with them, I noticed something different in me. Something that I've not felt for a long long time after going to Shah Alam.

Homeliness. The state of being at home.

And I searched myself. I was still in Shah Alam - or Klang - so why suddenly the warmth and the security overwhelming me?

It was not the physical state after all, it was not the food, not the belongings of my 'home'. It was a house, a physical structure, it was dead.

But my home was alive, and it still is alive.

I realised, my home was my parents.

My house gives me a roof over my head, but my home gave and gives me security and comfort. My violin and piano gives me something to do when I'm bored, but my parents give me companionship and advice. My bed gives me a place to sleep and toss, but my parents gives me rest.

See the difference?

And as they left, as I stood at the door watching their car fading away into the dark night, I sighed. The real thing that I missed wasn't anything else but them. Over the years, I've learned to appreciate both fact and truth that heaven is where my mom stands on, and the center of the earth is where my father places his feet. Both of them provided me more than shelther and clothes, they gave me a home.

They gave themselves to me for me.

That is a true home.