Home
“He got up and went home to his father. ”
Item. Yesterday was an at home day. Across four decades as an itinerant Methodist minister's family, we lived in some 10 houses in 10 places. 12+ years, and hoping for more, here on Sporran Place, this is the longest Dianne and I have lived anywhere since our parents' houses. Dianne planted pansies, loropetalum, and such around her beloved back porch patio. I did the transport and heavy lifting for the big yellow bags of soil from Cahaba Heights Hardware. Then...
Item. I retreated inside to my intersanctum study to read SOUTHWARD TOWARD HOME by Margaret Eby who grew up in Birmingham. She tells of her visits to the homeplaces of ten Southern authors and reflects on the connections with their writings. Great read! My favorite chapters cover Flannery O'Connor (of course), Harper Lee, Eudora Welty, and William Faulkner. A common theme is how most had moved somewhere else (often New York City) to get away from home in order to find their voice and material. Yet, they found their way home and discovered this was their best place and chance for insights worth writing about.
Welty: "One place comprehended helps us understand all places better."
Flannery (sigh): "I stayed away from home from the time I was 20 until 25 with the notion the life of my writing depended on staying away. I would have persisted in that delusion had I not got ill and had to come home. The best of my writing has been done here." Faulkner: "I discovered my own little postage stamp of native soil was worth writing about and I would never live long enough to exhaust it."
Item: Best recollection, I have been on a half dozen or so extended study trips overseas without Dianne. Great sites, sights, and insights abounded. I became a better preacher, pastor, and person because of such travels. But inevitably, the homesickness became almost palpable. Plus, not a fearless flyer, my quip has been I never knew whether to kiss the ground or Dianne first upon arriving home. For sure home is a place. But also a face. Even when our home faces are now in heaven, the places continue to be hallowed because they were there. And via the mystery of the Communion of Saints, who says their presence does not persist?
Item. The almost too well known parable of the Prodigal Son depicts the son who gets his daddy's money and goes to a far away place. As many of us who have been blessed by study trips to Israel learned, it was probably no more than 15 miles across the Sea of Galilee. But from the known Kosher world to the Gentile world was a greater gulf of soul than the mileage suggests. He moves from sick of home to homesick to life more fully appreciated through the lens of home.
Item. A bit of noodling with a map discloses everywhere Jesus travelled was no more than a long hike from Nazareth. Yet, his close to home life has mapped what's worth living and dying for from earth to eternity.
One... let's keep homeless Syrians, flood displaced Carolinians, and troubled homes in our hearts and prayers, and take action as we can for them.
Two... please join me in savoring the rooms, life worn furnishings, and yards of our homes. Include your home places and faces each time you sing the Doxology.