Sanctuary

Family is what Thanksgiving is all about. We are blessed with a home that is filled with love, food, rest and music--a place I want to run to when the day is through. Yesterday, our new daughter-in-law expressed to Brenda how much she appreciates the home we have. Really, our home is the sum total of what both Brenda and I have experienced in our lives--our own family, or others where warmth and acceptance were extended to all who entered. Even before Brenda and I met, we were making a list of the things we wanted in a home. Most of the qualities we observed and desired were things that happened naturally in family settings, not things that were forced--but genuine, sanctuaries and respites from the world.

All that I have avoided for my family can be found on the TV show, Cops: dads out in the street in wife-beater tank tops, or shirtless altogether; the living spaces strewn with dirty dishes and soiled floors; babies wandering around in filthy, ripe diapers; everyone scurrying about like headless chickens...Do you know the scene?

I have witnessed homes like this, real and up-close, and I won't have any of it. When I was in elementary school, I planned to stay the night with a friend. His mom and dad started drinking before I got there, and in a few hours they were completely sauced and going for each others throats, both physically and verbally. I didn't feel safe. I called my dad to pick me up and I spent the rest of the night in the peaceful sanctuary of my own home.

I am looking forward to Thanksgiving this Thursday. I know that our house will be filled with the aroma of food, the TV will stay on constantly, and by 2 o'clock, a coma will overtake each person until we all head out to our customary Thanksgiving visit to the theater. When we return, the countdown to Christmas will have already commenced and we'll peruse the paper for Black Friday bargains.

I have found a resting place, and it's called home.