This week I've been reading a devotional based on Christmas carols (if you know me you know I love Christmas time!). Yesterday's was about being home for Christmas. Last week marked my return to my little apartment with my husband after being six weeks with my parents in a different town. It's funny how different these two places are, and yet both feel like home to me.
I'm at home with my husband because this is where he is, and he's my closest friend. He knows me better than anyone else. Here is my cat who has been with me through all the ups and downs of grad school, teaching, moving a few times, and having a baby. Here is the little balcony with the little plants I like to care for. Here are all of the books, familiar friends, that have stayed with me even since childhood.
I'm at home with my parents at their lovely house because, as you know, one is never too old to be welcomed and cared for as a daughter or son. My sister and I can always relate as we used to when we lived close to each other; our relationship is only richer with age.
No matter where I am, where those home-cozy feelings wrap me up like a worn quilt, the place and feelings are only a tiny glimpse at the true home I have in heaven. Christ has made the way for me to be brought home to my Father as His own daughter, welcomed and cared for. My relationship with Him is based on all that Christ has done rather than my own failings (or successes!). What a home.
At Christmas I always feel a deep longing that is difficult to express in words. It's something about the beauty of the trees, the lights, the eggnog and mulled cider, the cookies, the gifts, and the music. All of these evoke that sense of home that I know will be truly fulfilled when I get where I'm ultimately going.
