Home

We've said it since we got married and yet we haven't been very good about sticking to our promise. Sure, we found a church in Olathe that we liked "well enough" and visited periodically, but not a true church home. And so, a few weeks ago we began our journey again to find somewhere that our family could grow spiritually.

It was our second visit to Heartland, a large community church near our house. It just so happened that my brother and his family began going there several months ago and so it seemed a great place to begin our search. Our first time there we passed on the well-equipped clean nursery in favor of Hudson joining us for service.

If you know Hudson, you can expect that he was perfect. Our only issue was him flirting with the cute girl behind us and bending over backward (quite literally, of course) to engage her. But, since that first visit before Thanksgiving, a lot has changed with the Hud. He is more mobile than ever; pulling up, cruising, climbing and most worrisome, forever wanting to hear the sound of his own voice. (Any idea where that comes from?!) So after much convincing, Dan agreed in a game time decision that we could allow Hud to go to the nursery.

We checked Hudson in at the high tech nursery kiosk. I provided his pertinent information and according to his birth date they assigned him a class room, a name tag and both of us coordinating identifying name tags so that we could access him. A friendly staff member appeared to escort us to his secured room. We walked down the hall and into his room. Four seemingly tiny babies sat in a circle on a small rug in the center. Some were in bumbos, others were seated with caregivers behind them. The head teacher, a woman of rather short stature, came toward us and before I could even say hello, she nervously spoke, "I think we'll have to switch him to another room. He'll be more comfortable there." I turned to look at the other babies once more, confused as to why we were being moved. Yep. I saw it. The sheer terror in their faces at the entrance of the massive Hudzilla. We weren't being bumped for age, but size!

As we walked to the next hallway, our escort stammered about. "How old is he?" "Almost 10 months," I responded. "Well, at that age..." She trailed off. She could have just said it.
"The other babies are frightened. The small teacher couldn't lift him. He's ginormous. He belongs with larger children." But, in her attempt to be kind, she nervously tried to explain the system (which with computerized assignment of classrooms based upon date of birth) she had a difficult task. We came upon a room of a few older babies. In truth, he was still the largest among them, but with them already eating Cheerios upon our arrival, this did seem a place the Hud would be more comfortable. And so, with a nervous Dan in tow, I left our sweet, smiling Hudson with a kind caregiver.

This church is much like the one my family attended when I was a teenager. It was at that time that our family left our traditional church upbringing in favor of a more contemporary church family. We landed in a church in which I flourished. Quickly I became very involved with the youth program and had the opportunity to sing weekly with the church band. It was there that I grew spiritually and made the decision to be baptized in the church on December 21, 1997. Having grown up in a traditional church setting through which I learned my Bible stories, went to church camp and sang hymnals, I can appreciate the benefits of both settings and understand that whatever choice we make will be the one that best fits our family and the ideals we choose to emphasize.

That being said, this is different for Dan. Church services start with a bang with a full praise band and singing. I reached for Dan's hand only to be taken aback by his extremely sweaty palm. I looked at the clock. "Only 50 more minutes until we can go get him." I reassured him. Poor guy was a nervous wreck without his baby.

The message was powerful. The pastor spoke of coming home. In a biblical sense, he spoke of man's exile from the Garden of Eden and his continual lingering desire to come home to God. He also spoke of the "anticippointment" (anticipation/disappointment) that often accompanies family holiday gatherings. The desire for everything to live up to the perfect picture we hold in our heads and the disappointment when circumstances can't match them.

Growing up, we often compared my Dad to Clark Griswold. His quirky nature and desire to create the "perfect Christmas" right down to the sticky, sappy, hand-cut pine and twinkle light overkill is something I will forever admire about him. Dan, too, has this same quality and is perhaps, what I love most. He will go to great depths to assure my happiness and now, for the happiness of Hudson. It's amazing how having a child magnifies such qualities within us.

Coming home, for me has always be going to Derby, waking up Christmas morning to hot cocoa and making banana pancakes. Then, surrounded by family, we open Christmas gifts warmed by a fire while the shrieks and squeals of the kiddos signal a successful loot from Santa. But now, coming home has a greater meaning. With the hectic nature of our holidays now, trying to be everywhere at once, it's hard not to get lost in the shuffle. But, I've realized, home is not so much a place anymore but a feeling, a love so deep and pure that transcends the commercial holiday and accentuates the true meanings of Christmas. Love. Blessings. Family.

And so, this Christmas, as Dan and I strive to create the perfect first Christmas for our little Hudson, I hope that I can hold on to the true meaning of the holiday and share with Hudson what it means to come home.

Oh, and as for Hudson's first church nursery experience? We were greeted by the same little boy we left, a happy, smiley Hud again ready to eat.


And since I haven't posted a video in a while, here's a little video of Hud and Frosty. I think Hudson won.