When faced with this year’s advent challenge of doing ‘something’ to a sweet little birdhouse I was, understandably, stumped. Inspiration wasn’t forthcoming. The idea of being inspired by home and, more importantly, the lack thereof left me feeling overwhelmed. How could I garner any sort of usable idea that captured the essence of home amidst a time when the word home is such a loaded phrase?
Home to me is simple albeit geographically complicated – it’s the place my husband and son are. It’s also across the Irish Sea where my mum is and it’s across the bigger pond where my husband’s family are. My son has the luxury of saying he has three homes; something he (rightly) takes great pride in.
Like so many, our little family of three has woven its own tapestry of life. And it was this tapestry that finally nudged me in the direction of inspiration. Less of a solution to society’s deepest displacement issues and more of a celebration of life and people everywhere who weave their tapestry and tell their story.
Those who find themselves without a home or escaping their country are no different to us and yet the attitude is often one that sets us apart as different, as better or worse but it's this tapestry that doesn't set us apart - it binds us and we must remember that, always.