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There are a few moments I will never forget.

The day my brother was born.

The day we rode in a buggy behind a bike to the beach.

The last day of senior year.

The day I started college.

The day I got a call to Luther.

The day I drove to Omega.

The emotions ran high. Fear. Shock. Grief. Completely overwhelmed.

I have never been so filled with grief. The grief of a summer spent out of WI and the loss of a 2014 Luther staff that I wasn't invited to. I cried. I paused and stared in wonder at the place that would destroy me from the inside out. I looked up at the hill and thought the next three months of my life were completely over. Little did I know that the only thing it would be destroying, was the completely wrong beliefs I had.

This was a place that encouraged belonging. It flourished with tears. Tears of joy, sorrow and understanding. For one summer, our home was found in the frayed edges of handed down couches pushed in a circle. It was discovered in a mud filled field infested with screaming children. It was seen in the flames of a BZ campfire as our sunglasses reflected the watercolors of a sunset painted just for us. The sense of home surrounded us in the never leaving bug spray and sunscreen smell. But most importantly home could be found in the faces of all those who walked our paths and shared His word, who listened to our sadness and gave us immeasurable joy.  Wherever these people go, they carry with them parts of the home we shared.

The people I met and the place I was able to call home for one summer can never be replicated. As we travel and grow, I feel a sense of distance. My home wasn't just left behind, but was dispersed. As people left, small parts of my home went with them.

My home travels far and wide. Parts of it can be found in the heart of a woman who bleeds pride for Texas. Some belongs to a boy who loves spoons, cats and eating freezies in numerous forms and another who can leave me with the best advice and a smile. Still more was given to a girl who's smile is the most genuine I know. Parts of home left every Friday, and as quickly as the tears dried, new pieces of the puzzle called home arrived on Sundays.

This summer gave a new meaning to the simple word home. Home is not just a place, and it's not just things. My home is spewed further than the eye could ever see, placed in beating hearts of able bodies. All together, on fire for Him.