Home Sweet Home

Dorothy murmured of it in her sleep as she dreamed of returning. Accolades to it have been stitched, painted, and printed on everything imaginable and recording artists have sung its praises all over the world. And yes, with Thanksgiving close behind us and Christmas being right around the corner, it seems fitting to acknowledge one of the most well-known and beloved tunes of them all. That would be the late Perry Como’s 1954 classic, “There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays.”

Of course, I’m talking about our homes today and the odes we give them.

Yours truly has been on the road more than I’ve been off of lately, so home is feeling especially wonderful and cozy to me right now as I sit beside the fire penning these thoughts. Home is where we feel the safest and rest the best. Be it castle or cottage, there’s no place like home.

They say you can never go home again. I get that. I realize they’re saying we can never really return home because we aren’t the same people who lived there, that even if home hasn’t changed, we have. If our early homes were happy, like my own, that can fill us with nostalgia, a familiar blend of joyful memories tinged with sadness because we can’t go back. For others, whose childhood homes were filled with more pain than pleasure, I would imagine knowing you can’t go home suits you fine. If that’s you, dear reader, I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry about what was, but I hope to encourage you today in what can be.

You and I have a perfect home, one made without hands. Deuteronomy 33.27 teaches us that the eternal God is our dwelling place, and underneath us are His everlasting arms. Regardless of how we started this life, we’re invited to spend eternity in the sweet refuge of God’s embrace.

And here’s the news I most love to share about our dwelling pace: In Christ Jesus, we can be both already there and looking forward to the day when we never have to leave. Home Sweet Home, indeed.

Hugs, Shellie