Welcome to the Heart’s Home Blog Hop!

How can one best define the word “home”? Is it simply the four walls currently surrounding you, the place where you grew up, or the country you are from? Perhaps the place where your parents, your family, resides?

As the saying goes, home is where the heart is.

For most of us, home is not necessarily a house, or even a physical place, but the feeling that you are where you belong. Where you can be you. Somewhere comfortable, like a set of warm and fuzzy pajamas. Somewhere safe, like a babe snuggled in its mother’s arms.

Today, we welcome various characters from our books, and pose this question to them:

Where is home to you?

Mikel Toussaint, The Ring That Binds

Ah, home. My old home is far away, across the big ocean. España—where my Mama, Papa and so many relatives are. They live tight together in houses of stone along cobbled streets. So different from here… In America, my new home, my brother Danel and I find new country. We come to western land to make fortune. Land is big and wide and we search for good place. In Aspen, we open store, like our relatives, and plant grapevines and fruit trees. Rich soil in America will soon make wines and cider to share with all our American friends.

When I first see Celia Innes, my heart’s love, I have happy smile. Even though she be quiet and not smile much, I notice her. I see her work hard and pay late husband’s debt. I see pretty things she sews with her hands. She is loving mother and daughter Keena is sweet girl without a papa. I know this is good woman. Celia’s store is clean and tidy and her customers like clothes she sews. I wish to help and I do things in hopes of seeing my Celia smile. Her smile and shining eyes are my heart’s home.

Nicki Garat, Big Horn Storm

I was born in Texas, grew up in Chicago and currently live in Denver, Colorado, but none of these locales have ever felt like home. My heart has always belonged to Wyoming.

I spent every summer vacation since I was a child in Wyoming with my grandfather at the sheep camp he tended for the Blackburn Ranch, adjacent to the Bighorn National Forest, which encompasses over one million acres and is home to the Big Horn Mountains and the Cloud Peak Wilderness.  While enjoying quality time with my grandfather and riding my beloved horse, Storm, unpleasant childhood memories were replaced by rugged mountain peaks, cascading waterfalls, evergreen forests, meadows, amazing wildlife and an overwhelming sense of peace and serenity.   And then there is Deuce—no place will ever feel like home without him.

Rachel Kinsey, Heart-strong

I feel the giddy happiness of a child on Christmas when I think of “home.”  At the same time, I drop into a dark void of depression.  That’s because I’m pulled in two opposite directions.  “Home” includes my soccer-loving, ten-year-old son Scott, the center of my life, as well as my sister Sharon, the most stable and trustworthy person from my childhood.  We share a small, inexpensive apartment in Denver.  We don’t have much money, but as long as we’re together and healthy, we take joy in small miracles like homemade meals and walks in the park.

The dejection comes from my personal memories.  My dad walked out on our family before I was a teenager.  My mother had trouble dealing with reality after then.  My selection of a husband was an astounding failure, since he also disappeared, while Scott was a baby.  So I have a hard time relating to men, although I adore meeting people of all types.

Now I’ve found a normal guy who seems just about perfect.  I met Jim Landers outside a supermarket, lost track of him, and bumped into him again when he rescued Scott after a soccer injury.  He has a good job, adores my son, likes soccer, is an amateur artist, and, to top it off, has the kind of natural allure that attracts women easily.  I just don’t know if he’s ready to make a commitment.

If he is, “home” will be where Jim is, where he and Scott and I can be together and build our family, regardless of the physical surroundings.  And “home” will be flexible enough to include everyone we love—Sharon, friends, even Jim’s cranky mother.

Roberto Luque, Homerun

Samantha Blacker, Escape to Big Fork Lake 

Where is home? I relocated from the hustle and bustle of Atlanta Georgia to a small town in Alabama. This move was a surprise. I inherited the Big Fork Inn & Eats from a dear friend and bad luck made me take the plunge, moving hours away from the only home I knew. If you’d inquired earlier about where I thought home was, I would have said the big city, in the middle of the crowded streets and shops. I appreciated strolling downtown, everyone going their own way, not really caring about what happens to their neighbors.

The community I now call home is a rustic countryside surrounded by trees and a lake. The people in this small town seem to think it’s their right to know what’s going on in your life. Some quarrel with you, others embrace you with their quirkiness. Sounds like trouble, only if you don’t need the love of a neighbor.

I came to understand why the sheriff of this small place arrested me. It was because he felt obligated to Big Fork Lake and wanted to keep the people safe. Regardless of what happened, I belong here now. I realize that home is where you feel accepted, even with your faults.

It took a great movement by God to lead me here and show me what my life is supposed to be. I understand now that often the area we call home isn’t the place we’re meant to be. Life began the day I turned off the highway, heading two miles to the beautiful oak lined street of Big Fork Lake, Alabama.

Rich Martino, A Hero’s Homecoming

I’m Rich, and I’m pleased to meet you. Since serving in the US Air Force is a Martino family tradition, you can see right away I’ve spent my life moving around.  Most civilians have lived in fewer states than I have countries.  For us nomads, home is not so much a physical location as a concept, a feeling of security we find among those we love.  After I completed my military career, I decided to make my home in San Antonio, Texas, but soon discovered everything I’d relied on was falling apart.  My wife left me, my father was comatose, and I couldn’t seem to get myself grounded.  Now, here’s the weird part–a psychologist had absolute control of Dad’s assets.  I could understand an accountant or an attorney, but a psychologist with no financial background? Something didn’t add up.

Isn’t it funny how things turn out?  The worst things that happened to me produced some of the best results.  The person I was most suspicious of turned out to be my strongest ally.  And I found out God is the only One I can totally depend on.  Regardless of where I hang my hat, home is the peaceful feeling I have when I’m with the woman I love.  She’s the light of my life.  If you’d like to meet her, read our story in “A Hero’s Homecoming”.

Sam, Sam’s Treasure

I was under the impression gold was the greatest treasure of all. With it came the stability I’ve longed for since I can remember. But a home is so much more than a fancy dwelling or vast lands. Since settling with Trace, I’ve come to realize that there’s nothing like setting your foot on a land or doorstep and have it whisper to you, fulfilling all that one desires.

Home, to me, is a place where one can end your search for where you belong. It’s the sense of welcome. Like the arms of a loved one, the surroundings greet you in a warm embrace from the moment you enter its haven. After a while, treasures become hidden within the walls, holding the memories of days gone by. In every room, a different scene in life, the first argument and the making up afterward, the sound of laughter lingering, or a baby’s first cry when its born.

No amount of gold or riches can purchase all home entails. It’s a place of rest and comfort until you choose to leave its shelter to face the world beyond its doors. A house is only a structure until it’s filled with love–then it’s home. When all you cherish resides there, there’s no other place like it on earth. No matter how a person may roam–home is where the heart is.

Miranda, Forget-Me-Not

(A White Rose title)

Home to me is the house where I grew up on a tree-lined street. I suppose it wasn’t the house, per se, but the family inside. My mother was an artist who loved to paint the flowers my father grew in his garden. My little sister and I were lucky to have loving parents who doted on us.

What makes this so close to my heart are the many cherished memories we made there together.  Family meals and holidays were especially meaningful. We shared the events of our day over supper and looked forward to holidays, when Mom’s kitchen was filled with delectable smells. Our lives changed when she got sick. Yet the memories will remain.

We’re giving away three free Prism eBook downloads to one lucky winner who comments on this blog. Additionally, Ruth Roberts has also contributed a $10 Amazon gift certificate to one lucky reader.

Where is home to you? Winner to be drawn Tuesday, February9th.

Please follow this link to explore the rest of the blog hop, and enter to win lots of great prizes, including two $40 gift certificates to your bookseller of choice, and a large swag pack full of all sorts of goodies!

Follow the hop:

a Rafflecopter giveaway