I walked up to the door of the mysterious house in the woods—the house I had seen countless times from afar but had never had the nerve to approach, climbed onto the porch, and rang the doorbell. I was curious about the mysterious people who lived there.

My soul’s home as a child included not only the yard, but the expansive woods just over the barbed wire fence. With our cocker spaniel Sparkle by my side, I’d bend the strands of prickly wire and climb through without a scrape. On the other side was another world—one of adventure, wonder, discovery, awe, freedom, risk, and even danger. I knew someone else owned those woods—there were metal “no trespassing” signs posted on several trees, and I found rabbit traps in several places. But to me, this land was my territory, my domain—my soul’s home, even if no one else knew it. 

“You can exist without your soul,” Professor Lupin explains, but without it a person loses all sense of identity and becomes an empty shell.

—J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

I was happy at college. I had friends and thrived on my courses and activities, but something was always missing. I longed for home. Truly, there was no place like home, the place of my truest identity—where, from the first day of my life, I was loved most completely and where, in turn, I loved most deeply. I didn't want to live at home, but I missed it. I wished that I could carry the feeling of home with me in my new life at school. 

Homecoming does not always mean returning to the home one once knew. Sometimes the old home is gone, and in more ways than one. Sometimes that home is no longer safe, even if it once seemed so. In these instances, homecoming takes many forms.

Today I was talking with a wonderful lady who told me a heartwarming story about her 12-year-old grandson, who has just conquered a battle with leukemia.

“Today was his first day of school,” she said. “He’s in the seventh grade this year. I asked him what his favorite part of the day was. And you know what he told me? He said, ‘Coming home.’”