Home

Merriam Webster defines “home” as “one’s place of residence.” That’s a plain vanilla definition. I like their other definition better; “a congenial environment.” This definition is more ambient, having a welcoming, warm, cordiality about it. When someone asks “Are you going home?” You typically think of a congenial environment; usually your home.

In 1943 when The United States of America was deeply enmeshed in WWII, Kim Gannon wrote “I’ll be home for Christmas.” That Christmas song resonated powerfully. The thought of “Home” became “comfort food” for almost everyone. Thousands of troops did not come home from WWII. Nevertheless, the song remains a staple of Christmas music.

“Thankshanakamas” holidays are approaching—and often we will hear Kim Gannon‘s song lilting almost anywhere. Our thoughts turn to family coming—or our going—home; even though fears remain about it due to COVID-19 Pandemic, happy memories lurk or resound within us. We hover near the abyss; nothing being the same. Nevertheless, let’s lift our thinking above the dreaded and dreary, to higher hopes for home; the joy of loving and being loved by our dear ones. They matter to us.

In Robert Frost’s (very long) poem, The Death of a Hired Man, Warren, and Mary his wife, discuss why Silas, a former hired man, came back home; they conclude that he came to die—at home. In a poignant moment, Mary says, ‘Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.’ Her statement inspires nostalgia for “a congenial environment.” The mind tends to filter out injuries, discomforts, and unpleasantries; yet it tends to attract memories of warmth, love, and hope hovering near; home at its best snuggles in our mind.

Don’t we all sometimes long to return “home?” There’s a place in our memory, vapor though it may seem, nudging us to be better than we are. Home suggests the foundational girding of who we are. Or hope to be. When we stray from our moral compass, that inner call says, “come home.” And. what better sound to hear than, “They’re coming home!”

Gospel of John , offers a profound thought about home; “The Word became flesh and made his home among us.” St. Augustine of Hippo said; “Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its (home) in thee.” (parenthesis mine) It’s kinda like finding your way home.