Scripture: Malachi 3:1-4; Luke 1:39-45

Going to Grandma and Grandpa’s – it was always the highlight of our Christmas season. So, when Dad announced it was time to service the car, the excitement began to mount.  Why just the mere thought of going to Marysville was enough to keep us going for days!  Why, if Mom and Dad played their cards just right we would even stop fighting . . . at least for a while.  Or, where they couldn’t hear us!  

The day before we left, the suitcase appeared.  While Dad kept his eye on the weather, Mom began the task of making certain there were enough clean clothes to keep us decent.  After all, we were going to be gone for two whole days!  

The morning of our departure, Mom would stand by the car as we dutifully carried out everything she had stacked by the front door.  Well, we kids carried everything.  Dad normally was standing beside Mom crumbling and complaining there was no way she was going to get all that stuff in the car.  But, somehow she always did with the only thing in the car being kids, the dog, and oranges.  The oranges were very important because they were the only thing that kept us from being carsick . . . one more phenomenon Dad never understood! 

Now in all honesty there was one major draw back to sharing Christmas at Grandma’s.  She was opinionated and totally unreasonable!  By the time everyone assembled – all the Aunts, Uncles, and cousins – there could be twenty or more people.  Sometimes there were so many of us we had to eat in two shifts.  And Grandma insisted that we would all (a) sit around a table and (b) eat off the good dishes.  That was just fine for Grandma!  She never had to wash, dry and stack all those dishes.  What made it even worse was that at Christmas, the dishes had to be completed and all the silverware counted before one package could be touched.  Do you know how long the adults sat around that Christmas table chattering and eating their desserts?  It was frustrating . . .  maddening . . . so totally uncalled for!

But now . . . well . . . when the holidays come; when my world collapses or there are more questions than answers . . . I would give anything for just one more opportunity to be standing in Grandma’s kitchen, washing dishes with my cousins, and listening to the stories being told around the dinning room table. 

That’s the strange thing about going home.  On the one hand it is the place many of us yearn to be when there is news to share, events to celebrate, or hearts to mend.  On the other hand, however, it is also the place we avoid – the place that reminds us of all the old hurts; the place that brings out absolute best . . . and the absolute worst . . . in all of us because it is the one place where people know us the best and we know them.

In today’s Gospel lesson we find Mary making that long trip home.  Joseph had just discovered she was pregnant.  While he believed her story about the Holy Spirit, he was realistic enough to know what would happen to her if she stayed in Nazareth.  She needed to leave for her own safety.

Beside all that, Mary really wanted to leave, too.  She wanted to someplace where she would be understood – where someone would listen to her rather than believe the rumors about her.   Deep within her heart she knew that place was with her aunt and uncle, Elizabeth and Zechariah.  Someway she had to get to them.  She had to go home.

But that was easier said than done. Traveling through the hills was dangerous for anyone much less for one lone woman.  Not only that, if she made to her destination there was still no guarantee that Elizabeth would welcome her in or that Zechariah would allow her to stay.  He was, after all, a priest . . . a holy man who was devoted to upon the law.

Mary, however, was willing to face her fears.  She was willing to confront the obstacles, admit the truth, and deal with the emotional turmoil her current situation had created.  But to do all of that, she needed to be in a place where she could speak honestly with someone she trusted, respected and loved.  If she was to have the strength and courage that would be needed to see this thing through, Mary needed to go home.

Home – a place where she could confront her fears; where she could ask, and be asked, those tough questions that, like it or not, had to be answered.  But there was another reason Mary had to go home.  By getting away from the gossip, rumors and lies; by putting down all her pretenses and defenses – by letting go of what little control she had – Mary would be able to listen, receive, and relax.

Thirty two years later, Mary’s man-child would be look down on her and a friend from a cross.  In the midst of the humiliation and pain he summoned the strength to say: Woman, behold your son.  Man, behold your mother.  He knew.  He knew that in the days, weeks, and years to follow Mary would need a home . . . a place where she let go and be loved.

It is my prayer that each of us will find our way home this Christmas season – home with each other and with God.