“I’ll be home for Christmas”
You know this familiar song at Christmas time. It congers up all the wonderful comforting feelings that come with retuning “home” again. I don’t know about you, but one of my favorite things about going away on vacations is at the end when I walk through my front door. “Home!” ET pointed up toward the sky as he longed to find a way back to his planet. “I’ll be home for Christmas” those five words keep playing in my head, but with a different slant upon its meaning. It’s more of a coming back to that from which I’ve come in the spiritual sense.
Symbolically we all eventual leave home like the prodigal son wanting to explore and experience life for ourselves. There is a pull toward “something” unknown, and our need to find out what it is drives us. So we set out on our journey, getting lost along the way many times. Like the prodigal son ,we begin to wonder aimlessly until that longing for “something” leads us back to that from which we came, “home.” But like ET, our desperate need to find a way home looks impossibly. If we listen we can hear those five words playing in our head pointing the way that we long to go, “I’ll be home for Christmas. For it is in coming home for Christmas that we are reminded of why Jesus was born. He came to show us the way back home to where we belong. We all must come to that point when we long to come home once again for Christmas. Upon our return ,we realize what we’d been searching for all along was right here where we left it. What we realize at the time of our return is how necessary the journey away was. For it is only in the leaving that we learn what we had all along, and it is in the retuning that the meaning of “coming home for Christmas” is truly understood.
Bacon! Bacon! Bacon!
It was early morning when my Tom awoke. He let me out, and feed my growling stomach. One moment I saw the food, and the next it was gone. As my morning ritual continues to play out Tom picks me up, and puts me in bed with my Connie who was still sleeping. I jump around her give her a tiny lick on the lips and snuggle up against her. No sooner did I fall asleep when my head popped up. The door was shut in the bedroom, but that didn’t keep the aroma of the bacon from slipping through every slit and slate in the door it could find. Even my Connie began to stir, but not enough for me. I wanted down, but it was still dark as the sun was only beginning to rise. I couldn’t see well enough to jump down. So I walked back and forth up one side of Connie and around to the other side touching her check with my wet nose each time. “Lay down Ollie,” “it’s too early to get up.”
So I sit staring at the door imagining the bacon sizzling on the stove splattering at the feet of my Tom, a piece dropping on the floor. My mouth begins to drool as I lick my chops. I can’t bare it anymore the desire, the lure of the bacon had a hold of me calling me…come, come this way. I jumped as if diving into a big black obsesses without thought, and landed on all four paws, like a cat. My Connie got up knowing I wouldn’t let her alone if she didn’t open the door. It was then that my transformer powers turned me into a Dogmomatic vacuum. On full speed I headed for the kitchen. Already in vacuum mood with my head down, sniffer in position, my tongue went to work slopped up everything in sight.
“Dam dog!” My Tom yells as he trips over me. “Out!”
I go out one way and come back in the other with determination to cover every inch of the kitchen floor. My Tom and I will play this dance… “Dam dog!…Out! Game,” until my mission has been accomplished.
I dedicate my wonderful Sunday morning experience to my Uncle John who has taught me, even from a long distance, the Magic of bacon. Thanks for the doggy bacon jerky uncle John, its truly transformed my life.