Going Home

I was recently chewed out for being a 'blog tease' and I must admit that all in all, I am exactly that.  I apologize for my lax nature in blogging, but the apology most likely will not change who I am or the fact that my blog entries will typically be very few and very far apart.  So, for those few people who are actually reading this, I apologize that you must take me as I am. :)  Moving on...

My thoughts on going home....

It is Christmas, a time of year when most people are making the yearly pilgrimage to their childhood homes. (or at least to their immediate families) It's supposed to be a time for family, feasting and reflection on the birth of Christ.  But for the most part becomes a hurried weeklong whirlwind of preparation for an ill advised family reunion.  I am thankful to say that is not what Christmas is to me.  You see I do not get to travel home each year.  In fact in my strange little world there is no singular home to travel to.  I was born in Minnesota and have family scattered there, my parents and brothers moved to Honduras when I was 15 so they are all there, I lived with my Aunt and Uncle in Missouri as immediate family from 15-24 so I have family ties in Missouri, I have lived in Arizona for nearly 7yrs now and made a dear family of friends and loved ones here and I have a dear friend/cousin and her family in Colorado.....Whew!

I grew up traveling with my immediate family every year. In some ways we grew up in a van traversing the US, Mexico and Central America.  Traditional is not a word used to describe my upbringing in any sense. So, at a young age I became adept at making a home wherever we happened to be.  In a sense I learned to think of Christmas as time to hold those dear to me close and love them as much as possible. 

In my late teens and early twenties I fought with some bitterness over my unconventional upbringing.  Why couldn't my family have just been normal instead of feeling some need to go out and 'save the world'?  I wanted to go home to the family farm every year and see my growth as an individual through the eyes of my unchanging history.  I wanted what so many people have, a steady tradition I could look back at and say, "That's who I am.  That's where I came from."  Instead I felt I had a mismatched patchwork quilt of memories given in no particular order and left in a pile for me to piece together.  Where was home? How was is right that I had to make it up for myself as I went along?

As the years have passed I have softened in my viewpoints of life and my parents choices.  True I did not get the experience of a solid unchanging history as so many people do, but I was given something that is so much more.  Because my parents chose to travel to foriegn countries and serve others I have family and loved ones scattered far and wide.  I was instilled with a great desire to give to other people the rich blessings I have been given, I have seen and touched and felt the pain and joy of so many peoples lives.  My parents did not give me one home to come to on Christmas. Without even realizing the enormity of the gift they were giving me, they tought me that home is not a place, it is people.  Christmas is not a holiday, it is an opportunity and love is not a stagnant pool you can come back to and take a dip whenever you please, it is a flowing fountain pouring from Christ into your heart and through you into others around you.  So, when I feel that overpowering love I know I have come home.   Merry Christmas!