Going Home

 Now that Russia has withdrawn its troops from Kyiv to concentrate its invasion in the East, Ukrainians are returning to their homes in the capital city.  In spite of continued air strikes on the city and the mayor’s warnings not to return, thousands are making the dangerous journey every day.  According to a report by Hannah Allam in the Washington Post, one of the returnees said, “I can’t wait to take a shower, see my bedroom, hug my husband.  I’m going home.”  Another said, “People say it is still not a good time to be there, but its our home.  Our walls will heal us.”

 We all understand the emotions that compel these displaced citizens to make the dangerous journey back to Kyiv.  There is something about “home” that draws all of us: the familiar place where we grew up, that special tree we climbed as a child, the sound of birds outside the window in the early morning, the familiar rooms and furniture, and, most importantly, the voices of those we love, the smell of dinner cooking, holding hands around the table and saying “grace.”

 But the definitions of home change over the years.  I still have those compelling memories of childhood in central Texas.  But, equally as meaningful  are the places where we raised our children: the places where they were born, where they first learned to walk and ride a bike, where they went to school, where they played soccer, baseball and football.  “Home” contains memories of Minnesota snow forts, snow men, and snow covered hills that melted and gave way to lilacs and crab apple blooms.

 Today “home” is in northern Colorado, the front range with majestic snow-capped peaks in the distance.  It is the place where we are helping our children raise our grandchildren, the place where our family gathers to celebrate holidays and special events.

 When we speak of home, and think of home, we cannot do so without remembering or anticipating the presence of those whom we love, those who loved us the most throughout our journey, wherever it has taken us.

 “Home” is also in the future.  A place we have not yet been. A “better” place, as they say.  Billy Graham, the great 20^th century evangelist, lived to be 99.  In his last years he wrote, “Someday our life’s journey will be over. In a sense we all are nearing home.”   As we age, the old song becomes more meaningful, “This world is not my home, I’m just a passing through.  If Heaven’s not my home, then Lord what will I do?”

 Jesus said, “Let not your heart be troubled.  Your believe in God, believe also in me.  In my Father’s house are many rooms.  If it were not so, I would have told you.  I go to prepare a place for you.  And, if I prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to myself so that where I am, you may be also." (John 14:1-3).