Coming Home

The doorway to my childhood was joy. It was an elation that was complete, unbridled, uninhibited, unrestrained, passionate, all-consuming.

Life on my family farm was a really glorious event. I had no idea until I was much older that we didn’t have much money. There was always laughter, adventure, beauty in nature, hard work, hard play, good food and immense helpings of love.

I began to see how important the relationships were that were built in that family and in our community of church and friends. When I think of coming home I always think of that farm and farmhouse. The memories of those encounters--our joys and even our suffering--is so wrapped up in a tapestry of the recollection of that period of my life.

I think it defines me in some ways—that simple life, yet that rich life that was my childhood. Maybe I go back there in my mind because of my own life that has experienced divorce and true brokenness of a family. Maybe it is because I longed to give my own children that wholeness that I grew up with. Maybe going back to the farm in my mind reminds me of safety, and warmth and comfort. Maybe it is because home is not the building—the house, but what goes on there—what grows there—like love and faith and because it was my own start of those things in my life.

I just know that the kind of joy I experienced was God-given. It was so deep and complete and exuberant, that I wish all could experience a coming home like that. From making mudpies, to building a raft to float down the creek, to the old swimming hole, to working in the gardens, to singing around the piano, to sharing meals together, to the excitement of Christmas morning, the memories of joy stand out the most.

But when I think about that joy and I think about coming home at any time, especially Christmas, I realize that the innate, instinctive joy I experienced, I carry with me every day. So coming home really is awakening to faith, to the God who never leaves no matter the circumstance. But having joy as the doorway to my childhood makes me realize that because of that gift in that place, I can recognize deep, rich joy in a new way at every turn in my life. It is natural that when I think of coming home for Christmas, I think of our family farm. Christmas morning with its joy, starting traditions, sharing love…it was all so priceless to me. And Christmas centers itself on joy. But our true joy is so deep. It starts with a babe born in a bare stable to a young mother and father…coming home…to earth...to change the world, to transform hearts and lives...the King of Kings, born in a lowly stable coming to us in pure humbleness...and entering our lives to save a fallen world...that is what coming home for Christmas is all about.

Coming home for Christmas is wrapped up in the joy of that one single life that changes all of us, if we’ll just let Him.