Home for the Holidays (Heb 11:9a)

NYC 2012

Years ago, I remember my Uncle Bill telling me not to answer the everyday-ordinary question "how are you?" with the reflexive answer "fine." He said that if someone was taking the trouble to ask me a question, the least I could do was give them an honest and well-considered answer. To this day, I can't say "fine," when asked about my general disposition.

Lately, though, people keep asking me if I'm going home for the holidays, and I wish I could pop off with an easy answer. I know it's just conversation. I know they mean well.  They're just being friendly. However, I don't think they realize how difficult that question is for me.

Because I don't know what "home" means.

When they say "home," I think they mean to family. Unless they don't. Maybe they mean to ask "are you going back to Washington?"

Santa's helper, 2012

The main reason I moved this summer was to be closer to family. In that sense, I am going home for the holidays. I've already been down to my sister's, inspected the tree, and dropped off gifts. I'll be travelling Christmas week to see my parents and my brother's family. There will be laughter and tears, wine and chocolate, twinkling lights and tinsel. There will be a baby underfoot for Christmas day; boxes everywhere, movies no one is really watching on TV, and good food in the kitchen. Is "to family" what they mean when they say "home?"

In fact, I have enjoyed quite a lot of fantastic family time in the last few months. I've seen my nephew play basketball and fight pirates. I was at my oldest niece's birthday party. I'm finally comfortable enough in my sister's kitchen to make my own coffee (though she didn't like my brew). I even surprised mom & dad (who are 12 hours away) one weekend - thanks to my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, who helped me with the details. I took my baby niece for doughnuts, and saw my brother's new place. I even got to connect with an aunt and a couple of cousins when they "escaped" to New York for a weekend. I could've seen another aunt and uncle, if he wasn't a straight-through-on-direct-routes type of traveler (or if I didn't have to work Fridays).  So in that sense, I guess I go "home" most weekends.

Ruston, WA, 2011

On the other hand, if by "home" my inquisitive friends mean Washington, the place I lived until just recently, then I'd have to say no. The time I've spent with my family since I moved has been priceless, and I don't regret my decision to get geographically closer. However, I have been feeling remarkably home-sick for the life I left behind. Home is my friends and our traditions. Home is knowing where the best celebrations are, and where to park when I go. Home is Cyndie's bread-pudding, "fruitcake" from the highschool, and half-day-spa-day at the start of break. Home is making cookies with the girls, attending half-a-dozen kids' concerts/recitals/pageants, helping with the Scott family's annual Christmas party. Home is sharing wine and (re)packing for vacation with my "other godmother;" cold December rain, and evergreens everywhere. Home is a murder-mystery on New Year's Eve. So, in that sense, no... I won't be home for the holidays.



Yet, that's not my home anymore.  I moved. So now I need to make new traditions, memories, and friends here, and I am working on it. That's the really ironic part. By asking if I'm going "home" for the holidays, my well-intentioned new friends inadvertently label me an other, an outsider. As if there's somewhere else I belong. The truth is, my home is HERE, where I chose to live. Maybe not in the apartment I'm in now - as I mentioned in an earlier post, it doesn't feel much like a home - but certainly here in this community.

on display outside the the 610 carwash, VA, 2012

Sure, I am alone in an unfamiliar town at a time of year when tradition and togetherness are the most common themes. When I get that "blue Christmas" feeling, though, I remember that the real heart of Christmas is Jesus, Immanuel, God-with-us. I'm not alone. And I'm not without traditions.

I'm thankful that people care enough to ask about my plans. I'm happy to make conversation. I just hope they forgive my momentary confusion, as I try to decide how to answer that tricky question. I guess I'm not going home for the holidays (though I certainly will be traveling). I am home. At least, as much as I can be this side of heaven.

By faith [Abraham] made his home in the promised land, like a stranger in a foreign country...."
  -Hebrews 11:9a

A Prayer for Sandy Hook

I was going to write something about Christmas caroling this weekend. It's a great tradition, one my friends and I kept up for many years, in many neighborhoods, in two different states. I love it, even if I really shouldn't be singing outside the shower. Getting out of our comfort zones. Spreading "tidings of comfort and joy." It seemed like a great blog post.

Then Sandy Hook happened.

Suddenly a blog devoted to caroling seems trivial.

Instead, I can't stop thinking about those families. The families who lost children. The other families whose children saw things children should never see. The families of the teachers. The family of the principal. The family of the shooter - whose mother was also a victim - and who must also be devastated by his actions today.

Christmas 2012 is going to be hard for them.
In fact, every Christmas from now on will be hard for them.

So I'm praying for them.

Jesus, let the people of Newton find comfort in each other and in the compassion of caring people from around the world. Welcome the innocent children to your holy presence. As their neighbors and families cry, let them have friends to hold them, sit with them, dry their tears and cry with them. Wonderful Counselor, be their comfort in this time of deep darkness.
Be with the surviving children, as they sleep tonight, and keep the nightmares away. As they wake tomorrow, give them the courage to get up, go out, and begin putting their lives back together. Be with the teachers as they grieve for the lost. Give them the strength to face their fears. In January, fill students and teachers with the courage they will need to go back to school. Be with the parents, as they help their children process the unthinkable. Be with the parents as they face their own fears each time they leave for work or send their children to school.
Lord, none of this makes sense to any of us. It's so awful. We are all sad, angry, scared, and confused. Let us not cause more harm as we try to sort this out. Draw us to you. Guide us. Comfort us. Be with us. Be with Newton. Bring them comfort and, eventually, bring their joy back. And please, Lord, keep our children safe.
Amen.

1943-Norman Rockwell - "Freedom from Fear"

It's beginning to look a *little* like Christmas! (Heb 11:1)

Oh, Christmas tree... how lovely are your branches.

City sidewalks, busy sidewalks, dressed in holiday style.
Silver and gold, means so much more when I see... silver and gold decorations, on every Christmas tree.

Deck the halls with boughs of holly! 'Tis the season to be jolly!

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

I truly do love Christmas. I love cards. Breezy little news updates from all corners of my life.  I love the songs. And that everyone sings, so no-one notices my off-key contribution to the glee. I love the treats. The cookies. The candies. The soups. The amazing entrees. Did I mention the cookies? I love the pervasive attitude of good will (even in crowded stores).

I especially love the decorations. Twinkling lights. Green, red, and white everywhere. Priceless handmade treasures alongside carefully crafted elegance; joy oozing out of every nook and cranny. When I (fairly ruthlessly) eliminated piles of stuff prior to my move this year, there were still 4 storage bins full of Christmas stuff I had to keep. 

However, this year I've opted for minimal decorations.

One small (crochet) tree. One nativity. One Santa doll (not even my favorite). One stocking. One book. Some movies. 

I have a lot of reasons.

I'm working an average of 11 hours/day, and worrying about work more than I should when I'm "off." I'm honestly exhausted most of the time lately. The idea of unpacking those boxes (and then repacking them in 4 weeks) is more than I can take right now.

Besides, no-one comes to my place. Ever. There's no reason to. I'm not even (generally) home on weekends. I'll be visiting family for the big day. Not counting the hours spent sleeping or getting ready for work in the morning, I calculate that I'll be home about 120 hours this month - total. 

Mainly, though, I'm not decorating my house because it doesn't feel like home.

I'm staying there. My bed is there. But I know it's temporary. More so than the other rentals I've occupied, because I know the owner is planning to sell. In the past, it was always up to me how long I stayed. If I loved a place, I always believed I could stay there, indefinitely. This time, I know that's not the case.

Which gets me thinking about heaven.

One of the most important tenets of my faith is that Earth is not all there is. We have a home that is unimaginably greater than this world.

More fantastic than the fabulous food served at holiday feasts.
More comfortable than a crackling fire and cozy socks on a chilly day.

More thrilling than the moment that long-anticipated, beautifully wrapped gift beneath the elegant tree is finally opened.
More awe-inspiring than the multitudes of stars, shimmering in the night sky, like Christmas lights in stores, on streets, on houses, in trees.

More joyous than off-key carolers proclaiming the good news of Jesus' birth on every street corner.
More wonderful than a phone call or Skype with someone dear who is far away.
More heart-warming than the love we so imperfectly try to show our families and friends.

More incredible, even,  than the magic that keeps Santa on schedule and in the air, year after year.
More blissful than the laughter of children, building snowmen, and hoping for magic.

Ok. Maybe not greater than children laughing. But at least as good. 

Merry Christmas, everyone. And whether your decorations are big or small, may they remind you of the hope we have of better yet to come!

To have faith is to be sure of the things we hope for, to be certain of the things we cannot see. -Hebrews 11:1