HOME

Believe it or not, this thought is not totally mine.  It was first put forth in the Bible.  Last Sunday, December 4, in Catholic churches around the world people heard the words written by the Prophet Isaiah about the beauty of coming home.  To enjoy the wonderful sentiments of the great mouthpiece of God Himself, I encourage you to read chapter 40 of the Prophet Isaiah. If you are interested in some of the thoughts that we here in Southern California heard from the priest who preached at the Mass that we attended, you can click here.
Home always seems to be more meaningful and more of an attraction at this time of the year.  I can remember many conversations that I had with people at this time of the year.  They were made special because either I was the one reminiscing or they were.  No matter what or who the source was, the sentiments were pretty much the same.  They revolved around parents, relatives, food, activities at home, in the community, the neighborhood and in the homes of close relatives and of course, church.  I had these conversations with people from different corners of the globe.  [I know, globes don't have corners.]  Just to show you that this one does, I remember exchanging nostalgic moments about the Holidays with Brazilians, Italians, French, Spaniards, English, Australians, Africans, South Americans, Pacific Islanders and Asiatics.  The stories were all slightly different, but essentially the same.  I assure you that home is home in any language you speak and from whatever heart the story is springing.  It doesn't matter if it is an igloo, a cave, a bamboo shack, an inner city attic or a mansion with golden door knobs and five-inch thick carpets all over the place.  I assure you that the kid who grows up in the Basque country of the Pyrenees has memories that are every bit as powerful as as the Gaucho of Argentina or the squid hunter in Micronesia.  This is the season when the human race finds its unity.  The mystery is that it comes to this realization because this the season when the disparity and the inequality in the world are the most evident.  The paradox of it all is that in the great divisions we discover the essential unity of who we are.  it is at this time of the year when we discover life despite the presence of death.  We discover health in helping those who are too sick to help themselves.  We discover wealth in the penury that surrounds us.  We discover maturity in the child, despite the childishness of the adults around that very child.  This is the time of year when we become aware that home is the place of redemption.
In conclusion, I have to say that for many years now, many years, I have rarely had  joy of being home for the holidays.  Yesterday, Sunday, I heard the missionary priest say that all he wanted for Christmas was something that he could not have .  Home.  I know where he comes from.  It's not much, but to him it is home.  The second part of my thought when he said that, was, "In California, especially in Southern California, most of us have "HOMES" that are but memories. " We have homes here too.  Our children are home here.  But for most of us, Home with the capital "Haich" is somewhere else, and always will be.
If you have time, you can get some of my spiritual reflection here, if you haven't already been there by clicking on the link above.  In the meantime, peace and joy to you all.

PAPA, PAPANANTAYO? --- PAPA, WHERE ARE WE GOING?

A PALACE 500 MILES AWAY

What follows is a serious question preceded by a fairly humorous story.  Most of the story took place in a language that is unknown to you, well most of you, so I will try to make the translation as loyal to the original as I can.  The question is: Why does it seem to take longer to get where you're going than it does to return home?  To put your minds at ease. I will admit, up front, that I do not have the correct answer.  I don't think I do.  Nevertheless, I do have an answer that I will propose to you.  After the story, of course.
Some years ago we decided to drive to Massachusetts to visit my sister who was in the process of living out her last few weeks/months on earth.  She had uncontrolled diabetes and her kidneys were completely shut down.  We had just bought a small Honda Civic, so we decided to drive since all we had was $500.00 and trust in God.  So we leave San Diego with two boys, one 4 and one 3.  Fifty miles away and many requests for an update of whether or not we had arrived yet made the necessary potty stop a welcome relief for all hands.  I then took the opportunity to explain to the two gentlemen who had come along for the ride that it was going to take us at least four days to get to where we were going.  I explained that it was Massachusetts and that we were going there mainly to see Auntie Jeannine.  They nodded in deep comprehension and off we went.  At the Arizona border we stopped to stretch our legs and to take care of Mother Nature.  As we were walking to the car, the younger passenger looked at me with this pleading look in his eyes and asked, Papa, where are we going?"  So I answered him with sincere love, "Dear, we are going to Massachusetts."  "Thank you, Papa."  We all get in and off we go.  Four days across country and not a single time did either one of them ask if we were there yet.  I drove and the three of them, Mama included, of course, played little games, sang pre-school songs, said Hail Mary's and Our Father's and ate .99c breakfasts at Stuckees, all day long.
We reached our destination at about 8:30 PM on the fourth day.  Auntie was not healthy enough to wait.  She had gone home.  The house was full of "strangers," so these two tykes take it upon themselves to rebel against their cheating, lying parents.  The elder one really gets into a lather and states emphatically that since Auntie isn't here and neither are Grandmother nor Grandfather, that we should go home, now.  We can't sleep here.  It's just not fair.  It took a long time and at least two telephone calls to calm things down, but nature, in the form of super fatigue helped us to carry the day...oh, no, the night.  We stayed there for about four days and then climbed back into the car and headed back to San Diego.  It was a great trip with two interesting episodes that have  to wait for another time and another "Thought."
Now, through all that, have you solved the question for yourself?  I drew the little graph on the upper right to make the point and give you a clue to what I think is the answer.  You've had this experience any number of times.  You leave home for a place that is absolutely gorgeous.  You're looking forward to the rest and the fun that awaits you there.  It is just doggone impossible to get there even at 80 MPH!  What is this?  You finally do get there, unload the car, look at your watch [OK, your cell phone] and you realize that in mathematical terms you made excellent time.  At this point you start questioning the validity of your epistemology.  This discomfort lasts but a few seconds, perhaps a minute and then real life takes over and you start to have fun.  Hey, this place is heaven and you're here for a quiet week.  Like everything else, the vacation ends and you find your place in the passenger's seat once again, satisfied that you had a good time and that you were intelligent enough to give yourself a two day cushion of relaxation at home before reporting back to the office.  You enjoy the scenery on the way back and before you know it, BAM, you're home.  You even know that you were settled in at about 75 MPH.  What happened?
Here's my proposal.  What happens is illustrated in the little graph above.  Home is a bigger area of intimate knowledge for us.  We are "home" much sooner in our minds and in our hearts than we feel when we travel to a less intimately known location.  This is true even when we regularly visit and revisit the same location away from home.  This, by the way has other implications.  Did you ever notice that when you start to prepare for a task that you rarely do at home that you find yourself falling behind on your estimated pace?  It always takes longer to prepare to wash the outside windows than you estimated.  It takes you but a trice to prepare to wash and polish the car.  Think about it a while.  Don't blame me if it takes you longer than you estimate to get comfortable with this whole thing.  
Finally, I don't know if I'm right about this.  It doesn't matter to me because right or wrong, I am sitting here thinking that I made you think about something that you had perhaps not considered in a bit.  I'm also thinking that you're wondering about my sanity.  Don't wonder any more.  I'm not.