One of my favorite musical groups from the 60s was Simon & Garfunkel. Do you remember: “The Sound of Silence”; “Bridge Over Troubled Water”; “I Am a Rock”; “Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream”; and “Homeward Bound”?
I’m thinking of the latter as I imagine all the hurried and harried people, trying to escape their crazy, busy lives for a few days of peace and quiet; time with family and friends. Then I hear about all the canceled flights across the country, the closed roads and stranded motorists. So many of them are bound for home. Perhaps it’s the home of their childhood or maybe the home where their heart is. But everybody wants to be home for Christmas. Unfortunately, like the birth of Jesus, some will spend Christmas Eve and even Christmas Day in strange and unexpected places.
My wife and I have lived in the Brookings community for 40-plus years. We call it home. It’s not an exclusive designation. We know our heart home is with children and grandchildren, with friends and former neighbors in various parts of the country. Many in India and Mexico have welcomed us with care and warmth, to the point where we see their homes as second homes to us. And there is still some memorable attachments to childhood homes.
What makes this place a home for us? Friends and neighbors. It’s the knock on the door at Christmastime with a loaf of homemade bread and raspberry jam. It’s the quart jar of excellent honey or the plate of baklava from another. It’s the neighborhood pot lucks in the alley and someones’ garage. It’s the snowblowers from different directions helping you dig out (sometimes even a sidewalk sized plow or front end loader). It’s the back yard conversations with dog walkers and long time friends, just stopping for a spot of tea or a red beer. It’s a sense of being part of a community, where you have a voice and a vote and a presence. It’s a place where the maple tree you planted as a sapling now gives shade and the beauty of fall colors to the yard and the garden is flush with flowers from early spring to late fall.
Some years ago, when we had only been in Brookings a few years, a friend from Maryland came to visit. At one point he decided to take a walk and get better acquainted with the community. His sense of direction wasn’t so good and he wasn’t used to straight roads and squared corners and he became confused about how to return to our house. He came on a mailman and asked for directions to our home. Without any hesitation the mailman described how he should go. Our friend was amazed. He couldn’t imagine that happening where he lived.
Brookings is more heavily populated now and the residential areas have stretched much farther, but even size doesn’t have to minimize community. I’ve witnessed persons in the heart of New York City help establish community by their interaction with others.
I’m always happy to get the newsletter from Casa Juan Diego in Houston,Texas. A Catholic worker community founded in1980 with one small house, they now have nine houses to provide aid and hospitality for immigrant women, men and children.
If only they had more. There is no home this Christmas for so many on our southern border. There will be more deaths; especially as the Arctic blast we have been experiencing makes its way south, even to the Mexican border.
In our old home of Worcester, Massachusetts, the Mustard Seed Catholic worker community, 50 years old this year, continues to serve those who are homeless with the works of mercy: food, shelter, clothing, medical care. Perhaps the John Denver song, “Take Me Home” … “to the place I belong,” is appropriate here; whether West Virginia or western Massachusetts. We can all picture with fondness the hills and streams, the forest and valleys, the country roads leading us home.
Bing Crosby sang “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” for the first time in 1943. It was written for soldiers stationed overseas during World War II. The song has since given all of us a chance to be home for Christmas, “if only in my dreams.” It’s better than nothing. As is Elvis Presley singing, “Home Is Where the Heart Is.” How fortunate we are that the spirit of our heart can be as large and as transportable as we wish. We don’t even need to depend on airplanes or buses or trains or automobiles. We can send our heartfelt spirit through the ether to our home of homes, even in our bodily absence. Dreams and the spirit of our heart can make all the difference!
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