In one of last year’s Christmas specials (Call the Midwife, PBS) Sister Monica Joan wandered away from the house where she lived. She had suffered from some form of dementia throughout the story line. So, when she wandered away while suffering from a fever we knew things were going to get serious. And, it was Christmas!
In her delirium, Sister Monica Joan returned to her childhood home. It was terribly neglected, but fortunately inhabited by some vagrants. (I won’t tell you more. You should look for it online or on Netflix. Warning, though. The childbirthings are pretty realistic. It might not be suitable for your children.)
When Sister Monica Joan arrived, she made this beautiful Christmas statement.
“I have come home to be counted.”
Isn’t that what we all do at Christmas? Like Joseph going to Bethlehem because he was of the house and lineage of David, don’t we all long to go back to our roots? Back to the people who “know our name and are always glad we came”?
The problem, of course, is that we can’t always do it. Either home is too far away. Or, it doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe it never did. Or, maybe we don’t feel anyone would want to count us if we showed up there.
But that is also the miracle of Christmas. Jesus came to create family where there was none. To draw shepherds and magi to the same cradle for worship. To release angels with a message about Peace on Earth.
If you feel you have nowhere to go this season, Dear Reader, please pause for a moment. Ask the One who made Light to shine from darkness to show you the way. If you don’t get an answer, please let me know. I’d be happy to hear from you, and maybe I can help. There are still shepherds and wise men seeking Him, and they will always make room at the manger. Some of them are in your neighborhood.