I Made It Home For Christmas

We all come from somewhere. When I think of my childhood I remember our big house on Long Island, full of love and fun, and only a few blocks from the bay.  I spent summers crabbing and fishing and swimming in the ocean.  And it was wonderful.  I also spent a lot of time in church.  Good old St. Mary's Roman Catholic Church in East Islip.  It was big and white and full of stained glass and musty pews.  It had no air conditioning and on summer days we would turn our church bulletins into fans and wave our faces, desperate for a breeze.  We sat, we stood, we knelt, we sang, we shuffled up the aisle to take communion.  We stopped for donuts on our way home, sweet and delicious, to be savored at home while reading the comics.  It was a tradition that shaped my beliefs, even if I didn't give it much thought.  I prayed on Sundays, and if times were tough, prayed during the week too.  I believed, but back then it was easy to believe.  My life was just beginning.    

I never stopped believing, not really.  It was more that my faith went dormant, buried under a busy life.  Moving from New York to Atlanta and then to Indiana, we never found a church that felt right. We started raising our kids and weekends were packed with chasing them around, and then dropping into bed exhausted, only to start it all over the next day.  And then Sam was diagnosed with autism.  I didn't blame God, but I did beg Him to make it not true.  I bargained, I cried, I denied it could be true.  But it was true, and I forged on, seeking treatments and therapies, joining a support group and slowly accepting this new reality.  There have been moments with Sam that have brought me to my knees, literally.  It is an indescribable grief to know that the child you love will always be different, always be challenged and never live independently.  I learned to not ask God to cure Sam, but to help me be strong for him and to follow the best path.  So like I said, my faith was always there, patiently waiting.  

And this brings me to where I am today.  Still a mom, still busy, still tired.  But my faith has returned, and it is as if all those years it lay dormant gave it the energy it needed to surge into my heart and take hold.  Grace Community Church is nothing like St. Mary's.  There is no stained glass, no musty smell and honestly no small town charm about it.  It is huge, and it looks like an airplane hangar, as many have pointed out.  But it's the people, the heart and soul of this huge building, that have brought me back. Only a few months after we started attending, Danny made the choice to be baptized at Grace.  He wrote his testimony, read it aloud on a Sunday, and was immersed into the baptismal pool, emerging as a committed follower of Christ.  That moment was like a miracle to me, knowing that Danny had found faith, despite a childhood void of religion (something which been a great source of guilt for me).  There have been so many moments like that in the six short months we have been attending Grace.  

But here's the biggest thing; Sam is going to church, and therefore, we are all going to church as a family. The very thing that most take for granted, and probably grumble about as they pile into the car on Sunday mornings, makes my heart soar.  Sam goes to bible study with other kids who have special needs.  There are kids with autism, kids in wheelchairs, kids who talk, kids who can't.   They get to play with awesome toys, and have fun, patient buddies who volunteer their time to hang out with them.  They watch videos about the Bible, talk about what they learned, and pray.  Sam has led prayers and at the end he says "Love, Sam" instead of Amen.  It's like he is writing a love letter to God, and I treasure this more than I can express.  The women who run this ministry are angels.  They are warm, welcoming and serve God by helping kids like Sam have a relationship with Him, at whatever level they can.  They have welcomed us with open arms and Sam loves his time with them.  Of course I wish Sam could be worshiping with Bob, Danny and I and the rest of the congregation, but knowing he is just down the hall, having fun and learning with people who love him, is plenty.  Almost every service brings me to a moment when I cry tears of joy. To be sandwiched between Bob and Danny, listening to beautiful music and sermons which touch my heart, is a happiness that overwhelms me with gratitude.    

We will be celebrating Christmas at church this year.  I will be thanking God for my blessings, and I have so many.  My life is rich with love and friendship, and I my faith is strong.  I see God in the faces at Grace and feel Him in my heart.  So many years later, I am home for Christmas.