It is a Saturday morning, at 5:44 as I begin this post. I have been up for an hour and 44 minutes, and I am drinking my third cup of coffee. I was knitting while watching Dateline while my husband slept on the couch from 4:20 to 5:00. The Dateline episode was about a man who killed several women, the women who refused to be raped cooperatively. Then at 5:00, my husband left for work (normally he doesn’t work on the weekend.) I decided to read more in Steven King’s book, In Writing, which I am thoroughly enjoying. The portion of Steven King’s book I am in describes his inspiration for the book, or movie Carrie. These two sources of input into my mind are rather disturbing.
Going home. There is a commercial on TV right now and I think it is called The Road Home. It shows all these people driving toward home, and when they get there, they are greeted by enthusiastic hugs. You can almost smell the wonderful air around these autumn scenes: apple pie, stuffing, turkey, crisp leaf smell, and love. Love has a fragrance, and it is different for each of us. I enjoy this commercial, and I think the automobile sales people have done a great job appealing to that desire: to go home, to arrive, to be welcomed and loved.
This is what we want. We want to show up at a reasonably lovely home and be greeted enthusiastically by nicely dressed people that think we are amazing, just for finding our way down the road and arriving on time. There is no drunken Uncle Joe in the corner; there is no scolding face for showing up late or unshowered. On the way, in the car, the atmosphere is quietly reflective. If there is conversation it is about the snow drifts, the colors of the leaves, and the blessings we enjoy. There is no screaming about someone invading another’s space. There is no remembrance of getting in the car without brushing teeth, and complaining about oversleeping. There is no paranoia over that last corner that was taken too quickly, and almost destroying the pie in the back, followed by angry snide comments about bad driving practices for the last twenty years.
We want the whole experience. We want the peaceful and beautiful drive and the family at the end of the road that looks like the pages of a sales catalog. And we think we can get it if we just spend enough money. So we spend money. We buy the car, we try to force our family into these premade forms and wonder when they complain and act up. They are trying to force us into their own forms and all this form forcing is mighty uncomfortable and deceptive. The pie flips over in the back of the car, and we go to Safeway, fight the crowd, and in a worse mood, resume our drive. On our way, the traffic is horrible and so it goes. We arrive crabby and begging for some mind altering beverage.
And so we arrive. Our imperfect, frumpy and unfashionable family, greeting other imperfect and “not for TV” folks. Maybe your family IS perfect….after all, it is documented on Face book…but mine is not.
We arrive. We hope to be loved. But are we home? Has all this traveling and effort brought us home? I realized when I went looking for home, I didn’t find it. So, going home did not mean getting in a car and travelling. Home, for me, is a peace I have, most of the time. It took me a lot of years to realize I was home, because I was comfortable about whom I was at the time. Sometimes, I am not at peace, and I have that uncomfortable feeling in my stomach no matter where I go. I am old enough now to know this agitated uncomfortable feeling results when I haven’t been true to myself. When my own thoughts, words and actions make me uncomfortable in my own person. The only way out is to look how I got there, and do some reconciliation work between me and my God. I can do that work on a walk or while folding laundry. That is one of the nice things about working with God; He is always available.
So, as I prepare my heart for Thanksgiving, by defining and ruminating about home, I reflect on the marketing, the beauty of nature, and the people I love. I get distracted by recipes and chores. I will do the work, though, to make sure my heart is happy and at peace, so my Thanksgiving will be genuine and true.
Thank you for reading. Hope you find peace in spite of all the twists and turns of the road home through the marketing frenzy and commercialized contentment.
Anne Ivans Home and Family 