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Jen Pollock Michel

( author + writer + speaker )

Home for Christmas

jenmichel@me.com

Photo Credit

Tomorrow morning, we'll wake up in hotel room.

Can you unpack the magic of Christmas from a suitcase? We've no tree, no decorations. Tomorrow morning, I'll be lucky to find hot coffee in the deserted lobby.

We could've spent Christmas at home. But where exactly is that, home?

Toronto, in the house we've rented only only six short months?

Elmhurst, in the house we still own but whose furniture we no longer recognize?

At church tonight, two readers retell the story of Mary and Joseph. They'd traveled in the ninth month of Mary's pregnancy for a census. Their journey, lasting almost a week, threaded them through wilderness, leading them further away from the familiar. From home.

Without a home, who can't help but feel frightened?

As a mother, I feel the urgency of this making of home. Home, the familiar somewhere whose door you throw open and breathe in belonging.

Tomorrow morning, we'll wake up in hotel room.

And maybe it's the best place to be. Maybe it's Christmas morning that we're meant to understand how this spinning globe will never be home. No house, no city, no familiar four walls have the power to breathe in belonging.

Only Jesus does that.

I make my home in Him and find I'm never a stranger.