As we all push through "hell week" and finals, many of our minds are set on one thing.

Home.

That's definitely what's getting me through the next two weeks. The thought of Mom's home-cooked meals, a warm fireplace, a comfortable bed with a REAL mattress, and bad dad jokes. And no one can forget about the constant threats against turning up the thermostat. Home for the holidays is a comforting thought to both you and me.

But lately, I've been coming to grips with the realization that my perception of the place or even word "home" is radically different now than it was when I first entered college.

Pittsburgh, Atlanta, Saint Louis, Mundelein, East Troy, Deerfield, and Fort Sheridan. These are all cities I have called home during the past twenty-four years. All these cities have significant memories and milestones attached to them, like Atlanta, where I began to hear. Or East Troy, where I spent three summers as a camp counselor.

However, the last place I can safely say I identified as "home" was in Saint Louis. Which makes sense because I spent sixteen years of my life there. Our little two-story ranch house in the middle of the Saint Louis suburbs saw me grow up from age four to nineteen, and it broke my heart to leave it.

The second best place I could identify as home is Trinity, which is located in Deerfield, Illinois.That's funny, though— I consider Trinity my second home because of the people and professors there, not because of the buildings (although I've lived in a dorm more than I have in my parents' house during my time in Chicago-land).

Trinity has seen me through exponential relational and spiritual growth, and because of that it will always hold a significant place in my heart.

During my early college years, I struggled intensely with the concept of home no longer being a place. It was so difficult to return to my parent's house during breaks and not be able to see high school friends.

It was tough to learn to navigate an unfamiliar house and neighborhood, and feel stuck when all my college friends didn't have that problem. Their high school friends weren't a five hour drive away. They knew their neighbors.

Slowly I began to realize that my idea of "home" was going to have to change, and I was going to have to put my home in heaven, since that is the one place I know for sure I'm ultimately ending up.

While I'm on earth, I will have many homes. I don't know what other homes I will have in my remaining decades on earth, but I do know that they will hold great adventures and hope for me.