These words pull powerfully on the human heart. For most of us, the notion of home stirs something deep inside us, a longing that’s not easy to articulate. We want to belong somewhere. We want to find rest somewhere.

We want a place of tranquility beyond the reach of the cold clutches of the world. We want the dusty road to end, eventually, in a quiet glade with the murmur of insects and the trilling of birds and the sunlight slanting through an open door. In short, we want a refuge.

But how to find one? How do we find the place that we belong? One answer to this question is that we make it. We find some corner of the world in which to plant our flag, and we go about making it into a home that is a physical and psychological haven.

A mere house is not a home, necessarily. It isn’t enough just to have a place of residence, an abode. After all, even animals have their nests and burrows, but they don’t have homes in the way we do. We’re looking for something more than just protection from the elements. We’re looking for a place that we know, and that knows us.

We want a house that provides peace and refuge, comfort and rejuvenation, alongside nourishment for heart, mind, and body. It’s a place that forms a fitting cradle for the whole weight of our lives, the backdrop to our story. It expresses something of who we are and of the kind of life we want to live.