My CASA girl celebrated it on Saturday night. She was SO EXCITED and was looking forward to getting ready for the dance.
I kind of remember those days. Not mine so much, but my two girls’ experiences. Homecoming was a big deal. This Mama really loved seeing both of her girls crowned Homecoming Queen.
I have such fond memories of coming home, seeing the ecstatic joy on Mom’s face, hearing her squeal, “Get in here!” when she opened the door and then having our “guts squeezed out,” as my daughter so eloquently described it once.
It’s a wonderful thing, when there is a good home for which to come. It isn’t such a wonderful thing when home is carpeted with emotional eggshells, when family members bicker and ignore each other, and hurtful words filter through the air and are thrown as darts aimed at the soft spots.
Sam was gone for days last week to harvest corn. Dad was visiting my brother and sister-in-law in Indiana. It was nice for a few hours to have quiet and my own agenda, but as the sun set and night blanketed, I missed conversation and companionship. I had no interest in checking off the boxes of my to-do list. It was foreign to me, the realization that I was alone for days. For two nights, I slept in short naps, every noise waking me. But, as the week progressed, I began to understand that this was good for me. It was good for me to be alone, to learn that I was okay by myself, to realize I could handle this sudden solitude and total independence.
And then Sam returned, and I wanted to squeal, “Get in here!” when I heard the garage door open and I wanted to squeeze his guts out. Sam came home.
On Sunday, our church celebrated 25 years. It was so good to sit in the chapel and hear the message of how the vision began and where we are headed. It was so good to hear how so many people have come to call The United Methodist Church of the Resurrection “home” and work diligently to spread Jesus across this city. It was so good to feel that connection, to have a sense of pride, to know that this church is where my heart is. It was so good to write on the steel beam that will be a part of the new sanctuary, “I am home.”
Last night, Dad came home. Almost all is right with the world again.
I remember almost three years ago now, several people spoke of Mom as she began to labor in breathing like we had not seen previously, and the words they used were comforting to me: Grace is going home. Grace is preparing for her homegoing… Her heart was here, but really, her heart was THERE.
So, I am grateful that Sam is home. Dad is home. I am home. Mom is home. And all is almost right with the world once again.