Category Archives: My Strongest Conjuration

My Strongest Conjuration

Driveway Matt JonesI can’t tell when the stirring began again, but I’m somehow encouraged to find the same theme popping up around the blogosphere – Home.


snow bridge Aaron WilsonI suspect Winter raising its head about the northern hemisphere has many residents longing for the comforts associated with home; good company and sufficiency.


While I enjoy reminiscing, I want to take some time to examine the actual concept of Home. To begin this pursuit of my ‘strongest conjuration,’ Today I reflected upon a few literary masters and some fellow bloggers:


Sunset in the rear view; heading home

Sunset in the rear view; heading home


“O my heart! O tender and fierce pangs—I can stand them not—I will depart;
O to be a Virginian, where I grew up! O to be a Carolinian!
O longings irrepressible! O I will go back to old Tennessee, and never wander more!” Leaves of Grass, Longings for Home, by Walt Whitman


“I’ve been building a lot of things lately, but I don’t think home is one of them… …but what I do know is that this life of mine must be made for more than this.” Pebblestone Steps, New Horizons, by John Chon


“… just a bit further, and then retire for the night … with my home being their final destination.” Two Are Better, Homeward Bound, Michelle Malone


“But charity begins at home. And justice begins next door. Martin Chuzzlewit, Chapter 27, by Charles Dickens


Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.” Martin Chuzzlewit, Chapter 35, by Charles Dickens


“The more you explain it, the more I don’t understand it.*” Mark Twain


Yes, we are fully confident, and we would rather be away from these earthly bodies, for then we will be at home with the Lord.” 2 Corinthians 5:8 (NLT)


*any inference to home with this particular quote is mine. EVAL


I would appreciate your thoughts – what you think about home.



Unless otherwise indicated, (NLT) Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.



Filed under My Strongest Conjuration, The World According to Roo

My Strongest Conjuration Part 2

Foundation Issues*


“You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it’s all right.” Maya Angelou

For what now seems too long, I want more than ever before to go home. My greatest challenge, as always is that my entire concept of home is tricky.

367px-A_Christmas_Carol_-_Mr._Fezziwig's_BallTypically, like Ebeneezer Scrooge’s happier visitations with the Ghost of Christmas Past, when I ponder home, warm feelings of Family Past flow into my fore thoughts. For me, however, debris and sometimes rusted car doors also flow in those treacherous waters. While I mastered those waters long ago, after years of “dealing with it,” it’s now a stale, old happenstance. I typically choose to move forward.


But I’m writing about my concept of home, so I’m going to remain in this stream for a moment.

Truth: My early life actually began in Pleasantville, U.S.A. The middle child of my parents’s first three offspring, we were blessed with three generations of a closely connected, devoted, loving and attentive family. After we all migrated to Arizona, we remained close. And then Quinn, my fourth sibling perished from a cold. Though my parents had three more children over the next five years, they never really recovered from the loss or the remorse and guilt that lurk silently in the shadows of such tragedies.

broken houseBy the time I realized something about anything, my parents were no longer like the Cleavers or even the Conners. We slept, kept breathing, ate regularly, people came and went, so nothing was different. And yet nothing was the same. Gradually boarders and nannies replaced grandparents and aunts. Our new, extended family branched out in so many directions, my brother and I were prematurely independent – far too unsupervised for children our ages. In our family unit’s complexity we became more like a grove than a tree.



Truth: my siblings and I, naturally all true survivalists, have maneuvered around the globe longer than we’ve lived in the same states. For me, the concept of home has often been incorporeal, not too unlike those who endured migrations during the Great Depression. For the brief time I was an average schoolgirl, home was where I went after classes – when I didn’t play hooky. Home was dry, nobody was hungry, we knew where to find what we needed – and where to hide when we should.


“Love begins by taking care of the closest ones – the ones at home.”
Mother Teresa

“*Anyone who listens to my teaching and follows it is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock.” Matthew 7:24 (NLT)


art: “A Christmas Carol – Mr. Fezziwig’s Ball” by John Leech – Licensed under Public Domain via Commons –



Filed under My Strongest Conjuration, The World According to Roo

My Strongest Conjuration – Part 3

Image Viktor Mogilat

The Story Within; My Greatest Agony


Storm Julia Revitt“This is a great idea,” I thought. “I’m a home body. I’ve been a home maker most of my life, so writing about home will be a breeze.” After outlining and then drafting My Strongest Conjuration, Parts 1 and 2, the breeze quickly developed into an emotional thunderstorm. Telling myself, “Heh, No worries, I like to dance in the rain” I shook off the drama.

thunderstorm Iren PetrovaAfter some days work a squall developed. Frustrated with my keyboard, taking pens and tablets, a pile of ripped or crumpled paper soon surrounded me. “What was I thinking?!” I’d dismissed my outline and ended my previous post abruptly. Oh yeah, Divine intervention. Right?

The next days flew past, while I poured myself into volumes of text. And then yesterday I deleted the entire week’s work. Shockingly captivating, it missed my point; while my journey to here has been marvelous, this is not home.

heartbreak Melissa AskewTruth: Home is where my heart breaks. In my actual history, however dramatic, my early life is a suspense thriller and at some points a horror story. You name it, I probably experienced it. And then, after feeling comfortable that the worst possible seasons were behind me, the past eight years became another series of losses.

Yet, in retrospect my prevailing theme so far has clearly been victorious against all odds”. Much of “it” happened in or close to home, so it’s no surprise my attitude about home had become corrupted lately.

Now, weeks into this project, there is no escaping the concept.

Leaving my father’s house, an image of home was solid in my mind. With my ‘beloved’ and our children we would live happily ever after; “Where Thou art – That – is Home -*”

While that may work out beautifully in some stories, it didn’t in mine. Ten years and four sons later I had become a broken, single, working mom. After a while, and some ego mending, home was any four walls that enclosed the right person**. Or in our case, the right persons, my sons and me.

2014-05-09 09.15.39

While we share excellent memories with my family and friends in several different places, their curb appeal, their aromas and their colors faded away long ago. Later on this unmarried, unattached woman with no conspicuous resources was proud buying my first houses. They were nice while my sons were close by, but once they’d all left my nest, they became buildings to be visited while not working. As Daddy often said, they were where I’d hang my hat.***

Years later, still hopeful, I married again. Convinced that God joined us together, the right persons between four walls, we set out building a life together and home. While some of the following years with my best friend were lively, spontaneous and occasionally rewarding, the marriage ended with a thud seventeen years later.

lagoon Kate TandyHome then became a brand new apartment with an eastern balcony overlooking a lagoon. However picturesque, it was cold and uninviting. And yet, living there taught me to fully understand that,

To be with the right person, one must first be the right person.

God loves me as He does everyone else; and to complete that circle, loving myself has now become a higher priority. For the past several years, my mission has been to be me, and not merely settle for whatever is left of me. While working through the mire, this new focus promises to lend to a far better concept of home.

“I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.” Maya Angelou 1928 – 2014

“How priceless is Your unfailing love, O God! People take refuge in the shadow of Your wings” Psalm 36:7 (NIV)

Title reference: “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” Maya Angelou 1928 – 2014

* 724 by Emily Dickinson 1830 – 1886
**“Home is any four walls that enclose the right person.” Helen Rowland 1875 – 1950
***”Any old place I can hang my hat is home sweet home to me.” William Jerome 1865 – 1932


Filed under My Strongest Conjuration, The World According to Roo

What About Home?

I began writing about home, what defines it, what it is and what it might be. For weeks I have been staring down my past, how I arrived where I am. I stared so hard that I overlooked the present for a while. The present ended my query.

People all over the globe face devastation and uncertainty; stark, horrifying statistics filling headlines. While doing perfunctory tasks, I tried to imagine my family; trudging along, minuscule elements in a flood of humanity, swept away with the debris of war.

Masses of people endure hardships, fleeing death or worse, uncertain where they’ll be when the sun sets. What is worse, those necessitating their flight hide among them.

I am thankful to be home – today. I am not comfortable, not for myself, not for my family or friends, and certainly not for more than 60 million souls. God help us all.


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