Earlier this week, Mercy told me “I wish Sunday would never come.” I didn’t get it right away, but it finally dawned on me that yes, Sunday is in fact the day that I’ll be heading “Home for the Holidays.” And today, after church, as we are all piling into the taxi, I hear both Teddy and Sharon say “Auntie, I’m sad.” I try to console them: “I’m coming back!” “It’s only for a little while” “Guess who’s coming with me when I come back – Mama Sherry!” Though I’m very excited to be seeing friends and family back home in Indiana, I can’t help but be a little disheartened at not being here for Christmas – especially when the kids want me to stay so badly!
I think on some level, all of us yearn for “home” whenever there’s a holiday. Wherever your “home” may be. For me, I have 3 homes: my first one in Indiana, where my treasured family lives; my home away from home in CA, where friends really are family; and here in Uganda, where 18 children call me Auntie. And no matter which “home” I’m in, there’s a part of me that misses the other homes.
It makes me wonder if in His 33 years on earth, Jesus ever yearned for home. As a baby, a toddler, a young carpenter, did he ever want to go back home? I mean think about it. Really think about it. The perfect place. Streets of gold. Pearly gates. Forever in God’s presence. After 33 years, Jesus did go home - in an actual blaze of glory. If you believe, as I believe, then we have a home in common: Heaven. And though I’ve never been there, my soul was created for it.
You may find it odd that I’m talking of Heaven and Jesus' death when the season we are in is the celebration of His birth. But I have to be honest … though the miracle of His coming is wonderful and amazing, I can’t help but look at Baby Jesus in the manger and see Savior Jesus on the cross. And that, friends, is the greatest miracle of all. He gave us all someplace to call home.
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