Home making...

I am a home maker... Home, how it looks, how it feels to the family and friends, has always been important to me. Even when we were poor as church mice, I visited wallpaper discount stores, rummaged through bins of fabric, bought returned paint and mixed new colors, sewed curtains and pillows and roman shades, pulled up filthy carpet and polished the wooden floor underneath, used cloth napkins and place mats for everyday meals. I needed the physical surroundings to reflect the home I wanted to come into being.
I have had some wonderful teachers in the art of home making. My mother taught me the basic skill set... how to set a table, how to clean the house, how to wash and iron clothes, how to can and freeze vegetables, how to be a part of a family in one house sharing life together. Mary Lynn, my Cherokee work camp mom, taught me how to cook for a crowd and to always have flowers on the table even if you are only eating beans and franks. Celeste taught me the art of entertaining, making your house and table settings gleam like jewels, providing food and comfort that draws people out of themselves into a safe haven.
Home making as a career choice is not well paid, does not have status or a benefit package. In some circles it is seen as a cop out from the real world. And yet, we all long for home, for what home has meant to us or the dream of home that we did not have. Whether we live in a studio apartment or a palatial house, home is separate from the square footage of our living space.
Last week I spent a morning getting the farmhouse home ready for a gathering of ministers. They will be meeting here once a month for the next year taking time for respite and growth at Sabbath Rest Farm. I moved Diane’s furniture around and added chairs, made dried flower arrangements, placed candles to light. Diane provided welcome and coffee the morning they arrived and they have a home now for their group. One night this week a friend’s visiting family came to our house for dessert and coffee. A fire in the fireplace, candles lit, coffee, tea and a mayonnaise cake made by a family member, conversation around the table, laughter and stories... home away from home flickered into being. This weekend Alison, our daughter, will be bringing some of her young mother’s group from her church in Greensboro home for a weekend retreat, time away from children and chores. Pop will cook his famous Lemon Chicken for supper and pancakes for breakfast. There will be clean sheets on the beds and fresh towels, bubble bath and time for walks, horseback riding and donkey petting, egg gathering and sitting by the fire, hugs enough to go around and firelight, Mexican Train Dominos and nap time if you need it. Home...
Sometimes visitors will say how much they love coming here... it feels like home... it reminds me of going to my grandma’s home to visit...it is such a comfortable place... These words make my heart sing. The housecleaning, cutting the grass, scrubbing the tubs and toilets, arranging the flowers, setting the table and cooking the food, lighting the candles, all that work of preparation has been worth it. They feel the heart of home when they are here, the welcome, the joy, the grace we say over being able to share some of what we have been given.
In Psalms I read, “God gives the desolate a home to dwell in”. And in John I read, “I will not leave you desolate...If you love me, you will keep my word, and my Father will love you, and we will come to you and make our home with you”. If I do the housekeeping, the preparation, get my heart ready, God will come and make himself (and herself) at home with me. I need never leave home to find God. All I have to do is love God enough to provide a welcoming space, a place where the Heart of God can rest... “There is a place of quiet rest near to the heart of God”. Today I will hold a quiet loving place of rest in my heart for You, O God. You are welcome and I want You to live in my heart’s home. May we both find home with each other today.