Thinking About Home

As I sit here in the quiet of a Sunday evening with only the Jack-ster for company, and as I read through many of the posts of my FB friends, I am struck by a sort of spirit of negativity and discord among them. And can't help but wonder if there might be some missing elements in our 2013 celebration of the birth of our Savior.

Yes, my dear friends, the government is, . . . well, what the government has really always been - a group of people, . . . o.k., a really BIG group of people, who set out with good intentions, but ultimately appear to fall to the desire for control (of everything but themselves). And yes, most of us most likely do not need to be reminded of the need to be careful of the season's primary temptation toward placing commercialism at the top of our holiday pursuits. And, of course, it is understandable, (even in the midst of my "why on earth does it have to be 85 degrees in December" attitude) that the weather is on the minds of a lot of folks.

I really do understand we all need to grouse once in a while.

But a couple of things that happened in our family this week reminded me of why it's true that my favorite Christmas songs are those that recount the truth about our Savior's birth. Although I could listen to Michael Buble's and Nat King Cole's voices crooning about those "yuletide carols being sung by a choir" practically 24-7 at this time of year, my soul feeds on the seasonal groundings that occur for me as the writers of the music take precedence over the singers. And I'm prompted to snap out of my "American Christmas" mindset, and revive my understanding of just what really happened a couple of thousand years ago that graciously paved the way for me to step out of the darkness and be rescued from this "body of death."

We almost lost my precious mother-in-law in the early hours of Friday morning - a woman of such faith that it can boggle the mind to consider the prospect. There were other private difficulties as well, that I don't need to recount here. But I've been profoundly reminded that no matter how much comfort with which I choose to surround myself, or how much I strive to live without trouble and pain, during Christmas or any time - this country and this world were never meant to be my home. And just as the circumstances surrounding that birth were filled with less than what I would have planned for a King, those circumstances stand as a reminder for me that my life on this earth was never meant to be what I would plan. Because I would probably make it o.k. to get really comfortable, really rich and do all the grousing I want. Instead, I just keep thinking how these present struggles are still nothing compared to the glory that awaits on the "other side." And choosing to focus on frustrations over government, economic strife and the weather will never diminish those truths, but it just might diminish my joy in the midst of them.

I guess I'm waxing a little sentimental, but as I put up the tree and search for the missing decorations, and try to figure out how to get the TV to switch over to the video mode so I can watch "Desk Set" in order to try and conjure up an "appropriate" seasonal mood - instead of being in the "Christmas Spirit," I'm finding myself just thinking about home.