"Home is where the heart is" is a trite phrase used often by people in daily life--and twice by writers featured in this blog. In writing we are to avoid using these kinds of words or, at least, put quotation marks around them to show that we know they are overused and have lost meaning. But, home was a theme these women prisoners wanted to write about--and that is where their hearts are.
These days in our nation, home and home life appear often to be a disaster. Soon we will remember September 11, 2001, when, ten years ago, our nation was attacked by those who did not think of America as their "home." Soon after that horrible event, we were introduced to the concept of this country as our "homeland." The words seemed strange, as if a truth we knew, perhaps took for granted, was being forced upon us.
H.O.M.E. Those four letters form a very powerful word: soldiers are coming "home," a family loses its "home" to foreclosure, a little Jewish boy in Brooklyn on his way "home" gets lost and is killed by a stranger, a 100 year-old prayer warrior goes "home" to Glory.
What is home really? A dwelling place of wood or brick? A particular spot on earth? People? A concept? A feeling? If we, like the prisoner, have to give up everything or if we sell all we have like Jesus urged the rich young man to do, do we have no "home?"
The great American poet, Robert Frost, said, "Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in." The prisoner knows this and the writings in this blog reflect that--or show the difference.
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