It's a rainy day and it's Monday.  I should be down, but not today.  I'll be giving another sermon this Sunday and today is a research day.  My topic will be "home." 

It seems to me that everybody has a different conception of home.  For some its their dwelling, others feel more home at work.  Some people feel at home at the golf course or at a neighborhood bar.  Others feel at home at a certain store or spa.  Church is a home to many and the ancestral home may be as repellent to some as it is attractive to others.

The common thread is that each of us feels a yearning for a place we can call home.  This is a place where we feel safe and connected.  Where we can be ourselves without fear of judgment or expectations that push us to be someone else.  Thus the ancestral home that is anything but a haven.

Heaven may be a yearned for home for many, but I wonder how many would feel comfortable living in what is the popular conception of that place?  Harps and clouds and bliss all day all the time.  For who would that be home?  I suspect even Mother Theresa would soon chafe at the lack of variety.  No, I think more people would agree with Max Tucker's's conception of a spiritual home.  Mr. Tucker is a self confessed hedonist and is the author of, "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell."

I'd love to know what place others see as "home."  Is it where you grew up, a favorite concert hall, a college, your house, or workplace?  Please let me know.

It's the weekend, about time.  My husband and I are fighting over the television.  I want to watch the Tour de France, he wants to watch the British Open.  He's watching other men chase a white ball right now, freeing me up to blog.  Pretty soon I'll push him off the couch so that I can watch Chrstian Vande Velde climb an Alp.

I'm even more excited about Le Tour since learned that Vande Velde is from the Chicago suburb of Lemont.   I'm sure I've driven over the same roads he has used to train.  Hurray--a local boy to root for.  Go Christian!

I've been biking more lately.  My typical ride is 20 miles, two or three times per week.  I finally broke down and bought myself a pair of those tight and padded bike pants.  The kind that make you feel like you're wearing about four sanitary napkins.  I may feel like the Michilin Woman down there, but my  ride is so much more comfortable.  I even  bought one of those colorful jerseys with the pockets in the back.  I only wish I were an adept enough biker to use those pockets.  That reach behind while pedaling still throws me off. 

It's raining like crazy today, so probably no biking.  Even after the rain stops the water thrown up by my tires from puddles would give me a wet stripe up my back.  Definitely not a good look.  It looks like more indoor exercise today, probably the stair climb with arms full of laundry.  And yes I have avoided Lifetime Fitness.  The last time I went there I almost didn't come out.

Oh how I've missed blogging.  In my last post, ages ago, I was heading for a workout at Lifetime Fitness.   No, I didn't slip off my aerobics step and suffer some grave injury.  No, I didn't meet a rich handsome man and run away (that I would have blogged about).    I just got lazy...fell out of the blogging habit.

It's not like my life has become terribly busy.   I still go to my daughters' concerts,  I'm still working at the same law firm,  the same piles of laundry and dust bunnies still occupy my house.   My garden is blooming and my tan is deepening.  Life is pretty good right now.

The most existential drama I've had to contend with is dealing with the lack of money that comes with a child in college and one about to go to college.   For a while I felt trapped and deprived.   Trapped because I couldn't travel as much as I would like.  Deprived because all my money goes to my girls' tuition, music lessons, or instruments.  I guess I'm not totally deprived...I bought two new bras the other day. 

I snapped out of my funk last Saturday.  As I sat on my upstairs porch in a really tiny bikini reading a book and sunning myself I heard the sound of Ashley practicing cello.  She was playing Bach's Second Cello Sonata...a lovely piece.  She played boldly, and well, and the sound resonated from our living room into the neighborhood.  The scales and arpeggios spread like the breeze over my garden, amongst the trees,  and through the neighbors' yards.  The birds must have been jealous.  And I finally realized this is what it's all about.

We pursue peace and beauty every minute of our lives.  We're lucky when we find it, but we're luckier when we can create it.  I'm doing my part to help make the world a little more beautiful.  I doing so I find peace.