One of my favorite books to read to the kids when I was a teacher was Eric Carle’s “A House For Hermit Crab”. Hermit Crab loves to get nestled into a nice new shell of a home, but as soon as he does, he undergoes another growth spurt that forces him out. Disrupted again, he laments at having to move on to find a new one. In the end of course, he realizes that it hasn't been so bad at all - with each new venture he's gained many new friends. And just as importantly, he learns that he's happy anywhere as long as he’s got them and a comfy home that suits him.
I can relate to Hermit Crab. I sat down this morning to figure out how many times I’ve moved in my life and all told, I came up with 18. Eighteen different apartments and houses to live in throughout adolescence, college, career, and marriages. I can see every one of them in my mind’s eye, and look back fondly at each one. They, and the memories that went along with them, have served me well.For as much as moving is a pain, it's always represented new beginnings to me. I love walking into different places - trying them on to find just the right one with the just-right feel. And ironically, though a bit of a nomad, I’m also a nester. I get right in there, determined to make it cozy and comfy no matter how long I’ll get to enjoy it for. And when it’s outgrown like Hermit Crab’s, I feel no need to hold on. Just pick up and go - looking for the next just-right shell. Eventually I find it, and begin nesting anew. New ventures, new friends, new beginnings and a home. A real home.
What does home mean to you? Is it a place to hang your hat, or is it more than that?
And how many times have you moved? Have you been a nomad, or have you settled into your just-right home for the better part of your life?
