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When I was born, our house was a two-story grey box with a big rock in front of the house the size of a Volkswagen. The builders found it while digging out the basement. Its resting place in the yard was as far as they would move it.

When I was six or seven years old, my parents added on a sunroom and a two-car garage. Our red doors and shutters became black. Each day during construction I came home to a place that was literally different from how I had left it that morning. But still, there was the big rock out front, so I knew I was in the right place.

Years later, while I was in seminary, my parents added on again. The house even changed color and became green, with the doors and shutters a darker shade of green. The big rock is still out front. Even though some things look very different, I still feel it’s the same home. I know where I am and where I belong.

But not everyone has that same experience of home: neither the same continuity of family location nor a big rock to let you know you are in the right place. Military families, for instance, move often (and are frequently separated from one another) throughout their service. Yet the sense of home does not diminish from this reality. Home is not just a place we see with our eyes, but a feeling to be held in our heart.

It’s not the rock that makes it home—it is what the rock stands for that makes it significant. Country singer Joe Diffie sings, “My footsteps carry me away, but in my mind I’m always going home.” Home is a place we can always go, a refuge to retreat to, a place we can always be no matter where we are or what we have done.

There is an old saying: Home is where the heart is. The reason why such expressions become old sayings is because in these words a deeper truth resonates within us: where the heart is, home is. In order to find that peace, that refuge, that sense of belonging, we have to find that rock that marks our spiritual home. We have to be at home within ourselves, in the most holy of holies, the human heart.

This was something I thought I knew, something I learned a long time ago, but I have only recently come to experience the truth of it. Whether you call it the Reign or Kingdom of God, the Absolute Truth, universal Consciousness, the Essence of Being, ultimate Reality or the Fullness of Love—whatever you may name it, home lives and resides in us. And when we realize this truth we know that no matter where we are or what our circumstances might be, we are always home.

This idea of home as a place within the human heart is especially important to me now, given where I currently reside. You see, I am a convicted felon, a sex offender, and for the next few years I will be living in accommodations provided by the Commonwealth of Virginia Department of Corrections. I have made some terrible mistakes, and I must pay the consequences for my actions. In addition to the years of prison, I have lost a wife, a chance to follow my calling and vocation in ministry, and the respect and trust of those whom I have served and love. The vast majority of my personal relationships have been permanently shattered.

Still, in spite of everything I have done and all the pain and anguish I have caused, I still have home. I still have that place of acceptance and belonging. I still have that sanctuary of grace and love. I still have that rock to mark my spiritual way. Yes, I will be able to go home again and again and again. And while it may be a while before I set foot in that physical place, it does not mean that I cannot venture there now. Indeed, in my heart I have been there many times, and will be there many more, despite my 8’x12’ reality.

Haden D. Conrad is at the Chesapeake Correctional Center, Chesapeake, Virginia.