Home and Heart Are Inseparable.

I am reading about, and reflecting on, home.  I find that home, for me, is far from just a place to hang my hat; it is an extension of my heart.  Those I welcome into my home are those who have already found a place in my heart.  Similarly, those who have a place in my heart are always welcome in my home.  Sure, we can always meet at a local coffee shop; it will be cleaner, and there won't be a crazy dog running around.  But when someone is a part of my life, I'm not afraid to let them see my mess, and I will love them enough to deal with my crazy little dog so that they can relax and rest and laugh and cry over a cup of tea or cocoa.  I assume the same is true of others (which isn't the case), so that is why I feel a certain distance, an odd and uncomfortable unfriendliness, when people I know are obviously hesitant to allow me into their homes to visit.  By having others into my home, I am opening my life to them; they see my messes on the table, and they see my interests on the bookshelves.  Our guests see that our house was built to be used in comfort, a place to find peace and rest.