It’s not four walls, a roof, or even the smell of cookies that makes a house a home. I believe that it is not what the four walls look like, but the family inside of it that makes a home. You’ve probably heard people refer to things as their second home. Growing up, I called many things my home. Not only was the house I lived in home, but my dance studio was too. I enjoyed spending my nights dancing with the people I cared about. They were a second family to me, which made the host of our gatherings a home. I also called my best friend’s house my home too, her mother treated me like one of her own. Church has been a common home for me and many others. I love that those four walls can host so much love in limited square footage. Memories also transform a house into a home. For example, the first time I said yes to Jesus turned church into a living home for me. The relationships I created there made it my most favorable home. Homes are not perfect, they host sad memories too. Hardships, like the loss of a loved one, or the loss of a job lives in homes too. The community around you is what builds you up, even if it is just a pet. A home could be just as bare as a roof with no walls, a cover. As long as there is comfort and joy, it is a home. No matter what, homes are comforting and a place of rest from the busy world. It is mine and many others safe spots.