Home for the Holy Days

There is much in my heart,
these early-dark and closed in December days,
that pulls me inward to homesick ruminations.

It's a wispy thing,
since I find myself oddly home-abundant,
wherein there is not just one,
but truly three
places on the planet
which hold a deep knowing of
Home for me.

 Capital H Home.
The Home that is more about
belonging and longing,
graces and faces,
loves and beloveds,
light and delight,
than it is about
place and space.
Although it is still that.



My mind is quieter and clearer
at Home,
my heart content and excited,
my body relaxed and energized
at Home.

I love Home.

And lately,
right now,
in these early-dark and closed-in days of December,
into this particular Home-space
where I find myself now,
all Canadian and wintry and citified,
I feel the pull of with striking strength.

Something holy almost.

Stay Home.

I am compelled.

Protect the quieter, clearer mind.
Nurture the content and excited heart.
Listen to the relaxed and energized body.

Listen.
Listen.

Stay Home.

Home for the Holy Days of it.
For the prayer candles
and fireplace reading,
for the making of supper together at the end of the day,
for the white lights pushing back the early-dark,
for the tea,
for the mindfulness of teacher learnings
in all the preparation,
for the listening that happens
in the deepest places of me,
for the truth I tell myself'
and the better confessions
that happen in that larger capacity of self-grace
available because I am so deeply at Home.

Tis the season.
Longing.
Waiting.
Being.
Hoping.

Homing.