The Boy's Rooms

I can't tell you what it was that made me do it, but something inside seemed to drive me to walk through each of our boy's rooms in our home and just look around and listen. The nest has been 'empty' now for over three years and, though there is still an occasional visit home, for the most part those rooms sit quiet and undisturbed for the greatest part of the year. Still, my soul needed to see, to hear, to remember . . . to treasure.

One room is now our 'office', complete with a computer desk, file cabinet, chairs and toys for the grandkids to play with when they visit. We don't need to tell them where they are, they know and often head for them as soon as they enter Nana and Papa's home. Another room upstairs is still a bedroom, complete with many of our youngest son's Boy Scout, hand-crafted, sailboats and derby cars. The other room downstairs is, also, still a bedroom and is the place Ched calls 'home' when he is on leave and this room is complete with his plaques, trophies, books and posters from his High School years. Most of what our oldest son, Matthew, accumulated while he was growing up here has now gone into his home. The same is true of our middle son, Raymond's, belongings. Only Ched's personal effects still linger in the downstairs bedroom and will continue to do so until he moves to his first assignment.

Still, as I stand in each of their rooms, I can hear their voices, their laughter, their complaints, their questions and their music. Still, I can smell their colognes, the leftover food they took in their room while cloistered away from their embarrassing parents, their gym clothes, and their sweaty athletic socks and shoes. Still, I can see their clothes strewn about, their school books dropped in the corner, and their unmade beds. Still, I can sense their presence over the years, feel their hugs, and they way it made my heart feel each time they said, as they ran out the door, "Love you, Dad!"

They have all grown up and left our home but, still, so much of them remains and, for such remnants of heart and memory, I give God thanks. Of such does the past shape our present and of such does our present craft the future. In each of these remembering's I am consoled that God is at work and, though often unnoticed and unrealized, each bit of these memories has conspired to inform who they, who we all, are becoming today. God is at work.

Maybe that is why the seasons of Advent and Christmas are so important for the Christian identity. Such specific dates are really irrelevant, as are the itemized listings of who was present and who was not and why, but what remains over all the years is this one simple and profound truth: Emmanuel, God With Us.

Each Advent we journey towards Bethlehem telling and retelling the Birth Narrative, trying to remember every detail and watching, again and again, for the signs of Imminence which God gives. Each Advent we listen for the voices and keen our senses for the sights and smells of Emmanuel's arrival. Each Advent, as wide-eyed children waiting for the Greatest of Gifts, we lean forward in anticipation of God's hug embracing our life and holding us close. Each Advent we look towards the home in which the eternal 'I love you' is birthed - and there cling to Hope such a birthing brings. Each Advent . . . we remember, we treasure, and we move forward in the Peace which quiets the soul and strengthens our resolve to be found ready to receive Him.

Each Advent we stand at the door of the Room . . . and are humbled by that of which we are a part because of God coming to us . . . Emmanuel.

Nancy and I are mightily blessed for so many reasons yet, of all these things, that which we treasure most deeply are the moments our boys and their families come home and the silent rooms are silent no more. Could it be that is exactly how God feels when we gather as the Church in worship, when we circle the Table, when we tell the stories, and when we are as one family in laughter, love and care for one another? Could it be that is exactly how God feels when we say, 'Thank You for the Gift!' or 'We love You!'? Could it be that there, right there in the heart of Bethlehem, we encounter the Truth of how much we are valued by God, regardless of our willingness to come home?

It is certainly something to ponder in these days of Advent, on the journey, telling the Story, remembering and looking forward. Thank you, God, for the Gift of Emmanuel. May we ever delight in His Presence in the home of our hearts.