My mom passed away several years ago. Christmas was her favorite time of year. It is mine, as well. A few months ago, my dad had to move to a nursing facility. Now the home place is empty. Often, when I’m there alone, I’ll sit and hear the precious memories. It sounds crazy, but the scenes from days gone by are almost audible. They hang in the air like the smell of apple pie.
Several days ago, someone at work asked a co-worker, ” Are you going home for Christmas?” It caused me to ask myself a million questions. Is that possible? What is home, really? Can we go back? It was then I began to realize, when we know He who was born in Bethlehem, we are always close to home.
I hope you enjoy this year’s Christmas poem.
Home for Christmas
Going home for Christmas?
A simple thing to share.
But maybe not so simple,
If home’s no longer there.
What makes it home at Christmas?
The query plain and clear.
Just a house beside the road?
Or things that we hold dear?
Going home for Christmas?
Is it glitter, lights…a tree?
Or maybe precious scenes of life
Locked tight in memory.
What makes it truly Christmas?
Mere scenes from memory?
No, it’s the Holy gift of God
Secure inside of me.
