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Home is where your heart is . . .


We are the home for all our children. The difficult one; the angry one; the sorrowful one. Our arms are big enough to contain and protect them all. We do not say “oh child, because you were angry, I cast you out forever” no, we love them through it all; even the dark times. Paraphrased from my notes at Jeff Foster retreat.

I’ve spent my life being ashamed of the past, stuck in a loop, repeating the same old patterns. My ‘children’ have been looking in through the frosty windows, occasionally banging on the door. I have cowered behind the sofa, ignoring their pleas for too long. It’s time to let them back home again. I can’t do this alone. My mind-made arms are too feeble, but the arms of presence stretch across the universe. Oh God please give me the courage to face and embrace my shame and allow it to be there for no ulterior reason; not so I can get rid of it later, like I’ve tried to do so many times before. My heart yearns for freedom and rest but I thought that meant ridding myself of the chains that bind me, but no – the chains are there to guide me.




When you’ve done it again,
And there’s no one to care.
When it all unravels,
And you cannot repair.
It’s the Universe whispering,
‘Come back home’.
And the Universe whispers,
‘Come back home.’

When you cry your tears,
When you’ve made your bed.
When you stray from the moment,
With no rest in your head.
It’s the Universe calling,
‘Come back home’,
My dear.
And the Universe calls,
‘Come back home.’

When the heat is on,
When tomorrow brings fear,
When there is no dinner,
And yesterday’s still here,
It’s the Universe crying,
‘Come back home’.
And the Universe cries,
‘Come back home.’