When I learned that our church Advent theme was “Close to Home,” I spent some time brainstorming about the theme. One of the things I did was think about books, and as a parent to a five-year-old, I have a particular interest in children’s books.
I am a big fan of our local library, Cedar Rapids Public Library, and the whole Metro Library Network that links CRPL with the Marion, Hiawatha, and Ladd libraries. I am a frequent user of the online library catalog to use the hold system to check out books from any of the libraries from my home library. I checked out a bunch of children's books with themes of "home" and I want to share my favorites with the thought that families could read books like these together to engage their kids with what “home” means.
Home by Carson Ellis
“Sea homes. Bee homes. Hollow tree homes.”
You can find all kinds of homes in this book, from the realistic to the fantastical, and it invites the reader to imagine every kind of home, and who might live in them. At the end, the artist draws herself in her own home, and invites the reader to think about their own home.
Home is a Window by Stephanie Parsley Ledyard, illustrated by Chris Sasaki
“Home is a table with something good and the people gathered there.”
This is a story about moving home, about what moves with you, and how a new place can become your home, too. The family in the story moves from a city apartment to a larger single family house. Moving familiar items that offer comfort, and being together with family, they learn what home means.
The Blue House by Phoebe Wahl
“Leo lived with his dad in an old blue house next to a tall fir tree.”
This story is also about moving, but also about the intense emotions the young boy, Leo, feels about having to move homes because the house he and his father live in is going to be torn down to build apartments. I really appreciated that this story gives space for anger at things that feel unfair; and shows creative ways of dealing with strong feelings, like when he and his dad make loud music and scream together, and when they channel their feelings into painting on the walls. And ultimately, they are able to make their new place home, too.
“You’re never far from home when you’re with the people you love.”
You Belong Here by M.H. Clark, illustrated by Isabelle Arsenault
“And you are a dream that the world once dreamt and now you are a part of its song. That’s why you’re here, in the place where you’re meant, for this is right where you belong.”
A beautiful book that tells how everything from the stars and the moon, to plants and animals, have their place in the world, including you and me. “And you belong where you love to be, and after each day is through, you will always belong right next to me and I’ll belong next to you.” This is a loving message from a parent to a child, assuring them of home and belonging.
Check these books out through the Metro Library Network, or if you’d like copies of your own, the local bookshop, Next Page Books, is always happy to order what they don’t have in stock!
Do you have any favorite children’s books about “home”? Let me know!
In first line of the Close to Home devotion, December 14, Rev. T. Denise Anderson reflects, “As I meditated on the theme, Close to Home, I decided that what makes a place “home” for me is people.” I immediately agreed. Cedar Rapids, Iowa is our home because of our family, friends and our faith community. My husband and I both grew up in Des Moines. My church home in Des Moines was downtown First Methodist. I have wonderful memories of the yearly Christmas Pageant with music and candles; Choirs singing from the balcony.
When we were first married, Scott was in the Navy. We lived in New York, New Hampshire and Connecticut. After his discharge, we returned “home” to Ames for Scott to complete his degree at Iowa State. His first job out of college was in New Mexico. While in Albuquerque, we thoroughly enjoyed the warmer climate and exploring the nearby the mountains. Many of our friends were from our church, St Paul’s in Albuquerque. But after 5 years, we yearned for Iowa and home. We wanted our kids to be near their grandparents, cousins and attend Iowa schools. When we were able to return to Iowa in 1991, I told Scott, “We are not moving ever again.”
When I began visiting churches in Cedar Rapids, I immediately felt “home” at St. Paul’s. It reminded me of First Methodist in Des Moines. Worship services were inspiring. St. Paul’s youth program was thriving and the music program was dynamic. I feel so blessed to have raised my kids within the St. Paul’s community.
In the devotion from Monday, December 6, the author references a song by Rend Collective from the 2019 Presbyterian Youth Triennium, “My Lighthouse” containing the following lyrics:
In the silence, You won't let go
In the questions, Your truth will hold
Your great love will lead me through
You are the peace in my troubled sea
You are the peace in my troubled sea
My lighthouse, my lighthouse
Shining in the darkness, I will follow You
My lighthouse, my lighthouse
I will trust the promise
You will carry me safe to shore
You will carry me safe to shore
I would add to the lyrics, “Lord, bring us safe to shore and bring us home.”
The devotion ends, “May we cast this vision of Kin-dom and bless others with words and acts of love, hope and mercy. May these words and acts strengthen our collective spirits and guide us all into the way of peace – guide us all home.“
Amy Bruner is a lay member of St. Paul's. She is co-chair of the Be Healthy Be Green Committee and participates in Sanctuary choir...when not visiting her grandchildren. She worked in early childhood education for 25 years before retiring. Amy and her husband are lifetime musical theatre nerds and have shared their passion with their three grown children.
The scripture for this week focuses on John’s prophetic message. Though his words might sound harsh (“You brood of vipers!” (v. 7)), it is a message of good news—of change, forgiveness, and justice—to a suffering people. God called John for a specific place and time (v. 1-4), and his cry from the wilderness, as written in Isaiah, proclaimed leveled valleys and righted wrongs. This was, and is, a message of joy, especially for those who had lost hope, hurt by the inequities and injustices perpetrated by the empire and the religious authorities aligned with it. The world as they knew it was about to change.
Crowds came to John to be baptized, and he charged them with “bearing fruit worthy of repentance” (v. 8), not relying on past glories, heritage, or lineage, but producing their own fruit, living and acting in ways that demonstrated true change. Resting on their laurels for far too long, the crowd wasn’t quite sure how to do that, and John offers words of wisdom. Instead of accumulating, share with others what you have. Instead of being indifferent or selfish, show consideration and compassion. Instead of taking advantage and preying on the vulnerable, be satisfied with what you have and treat others fairly and with dignity. . . even if you work for the empire (v. 12-14).
What implications does John's message have for us kin-dom builders today? If “all flesh shall see the salvation of God” (v. 6), we all have a part to play in the salvation story, in leveling valleys and righting wrongs. Like John, we are also called for a specific place and time: Here and now. Be at the ready, no te duermas en los laureles,⁹ and bear fruit worthy of repentance, clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, giving voice to the silenced and oppressed, speaking truth to power, and protecting and empowering the vulnerable. Let our collective voice cry out in the wilderness—and everywhere—with exhortations and good news. And, as the message is heard, more and more people will join us in building the kin-dom of God, making it truly a home for all.
9 “Don’t rest on your laurels.”
Posted by: Elder Vilmarie Cintrón-Olivieri AT 10:10 am
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Advocating for Home
Read:Luke 3:1-18 Poem by: Rev. Sarah (Are) Speed
I know you don’t feel at home in your body.
Your clothes don’t feel right.
Your bones don’t feel right.
Your name, just a word that people have labeled you with.
I see the way you try on pronouns like I try on clothes,
looking for something—anything—that feels right.
And what I would give to build you a shelter—
a safe space where you could be,
a home where you were safe and free.
What I would give to carve out some room
for you to process and grieve
and dance and sing your way
into your true self.
But I know
it’s not that easy.
My hands cannot build you safety.
My words cannot give you time.
My heart cannot be home enough.
So until the day when you are truly at home,
I will keep marching for you.
I will keep advocating for the home you deserve— the home in your own skin.
I will keep praying.
I will give you my second coat,
and the shirt off my back, and the food from my table.
I won’t give up on preparing the way.
A voice is calling out in the wilderness.
Do you hear it?
By Ryan Roth-Klink
Artwork by: "Saint Kevin" by Ryan Roth-Klink.
“Tap rapa tap-tap.” My hands pause what they are doing at the sound of that familiar knock on the door. “Tap rapa tap-tap.” “Hey Ryan, are you in there?” a gravelly voice ponders on the other side. “Coming, I am coming!” I yell. “Pitter, patter, pitter, patter,” go the feet of my dog, Barnaby, close to my heels as I whisk over to the door. My hand lands on that strange door knob… “Why on earth would anyone put the handle above the deadbolt?” my brain asks for the millionth time.
The door swings open and as if reading my wandering mind, the man in the doorway proclaims, “You’ve got a problem with that door there pal.” He is wearing his classic Scotsman cap and uses his empty coffee cup to accusingly point at the door knob. “Who in the hell puts the door knob above the lock anyways? What an idiot!” I can’t help but agree with him. “It is a strange problem to have.” “Well,” he says, “I can fix it quicker than Churchill drove the Nazi’s back to Germany if you wanted!” I cannot help but laugh at that one. “But, then we wouldn’t be able to complain about it with each other when you come over here every Wednesday.” “You’ve got me there pal,” he chuckles, “That damn old door is a problem, but it's our problem.”
Yes, that damn old door was our problem. My friend at the door, Kevin, and I never did fix it. Though we did try one time, much against my will. He came into our house one Wednesday and tried to fix the handle and lock while I cooked dinner. He stripped the screws and three hours later, around 11pm at night, we still had not fixed the door. I yelled at him, “What is your problem!? Why did you take that knob off? Why didn’t you just wait?!” Kevin just turned to me, gave me his wry smile, and said, “Well I was trying to help you pal. I’ll tell you what though, let’s grab some shut eye. I’ll sleep on the porch and watch the door. Sleeping outside isn’t anything new to me anyways. You’ll be alright.”
Kevin hasn’t lived in a house for as long as I have known him, which is going on eight years. As soon as people hear that he is “homeless,” it’s like all the other parts of him melt away. He becomes a problem to solve or fix, like the door knob being flipped with the deadbolt on the door. Words like problem, needy, hungry, and pain are used to describe him and his situation. The questions directed towards him become, “What do you need? How can I help you? Can I get you anything? Why are you homeless?” It’s as if Kevin’s name becomes synonymous with the word homeless and people never consider what makes up the rest of Kevin.
As someone who has called him friend for all these years, I am often troubled by how people talk about Kevin. Kevin is more than a problem to be solved. He is an avid reader who has read every book on World War II in the library down the street. He is a deacon at the Disciples of Christ church that he has attended for twenty years. He is a storyteller who knows more about the history of his neighborhood than anyone else who lives there. He used to be the head construction manager for a large company and he can fix almost anything related to a house or building. He is someone who doesn’t like to be told what to do or not to do, which leads him to be a bit mischievous. He is someone who tries fix flipped door knobs when no one is looking.
Kevin is more than the needs people see on the surface; he is a hidden saint to his church community, neighborhood, and me. He offers us all a hint of what the kin-dom of God looks like, where we relinquish our false notions that we are the helper and he is the helped. Kevin helps us balance the scale and understand that this top down perspective is an illusion. Kevin has legitimate needs and he is gifted. I also have legitimate needs and I am gifted. You too have legitimate needs and you are gifted. Kevin illuminates this truth, which moves us all towards the house of wholeness.
Ryan Roth-Klinck is wayfaring companion with befriends forgotten people. He is a photographic and collage artist and is the curator the “Are We Still Heroes?” art show, which was recently exhibited in the St. Paul’s Art Space in November. On the side he pastors two churches, trains spiritual directors, and co-leads the Nourished community with his wife, Kristina. You can contact Ryan at ryan@neighboringmovement.org or follow is instagram account: kernel_crinkles
Posted by: Ryan Roth-Klink AT 12:28 pm
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What is the foundation of your faith? Who has helped lay the foundation for you? How are you helping to lay the foundation for others? Journal or draw any thoughts or memories.
Hygge (hoo-ga). In recent years I have come to learn the Danish concept of hygge. I felt connection to this notion immediately. Perhaps because of my Scandinavian heritage, the word and its meaning just felt right. Meik Wiking, describes the word in his book The Little Book of Hygge. He says “Hygge is about an atmosphere, an experience, rather than about things. It is about being with the people we love. A feeling of home.”
As I learned about this concept, I realized I have experienced it in many ways throughout my life. In my early years I recall the warmth of time with family in the kitchen. Hot coffee, tasty food, colorful tablecloths, and wonderful conversations. Coffee time at my grandparent’s kitchen table was hygge. I have many memories of cozy family times centered around the kitchen table long after the coffee or meal was over. Talking, laughing, listening, telling stories while creating family bonds and memories.
During our college years, my not yet husband often hosted “mellow outs” (so seventies!). We would gather at his place, light candles, cuddle up with blankets and each other and talk for hours and hours. We created a home with our college friends. They became part of our family.
In our home we have created hyggekrogs (nooks) where we can each cuddle up with a good book, a cozy blanket, and a stack of our favorite things: candles, sketch pads, journals, crossword puzzles, needlework, a cup of coffee. In the summer months the hyggekrog moves outdoors to our cozy patio. We bring our books, favorite items, and enjoy the summer air, nature, and each other.
Often, I find hygge walking in the woods with my spouse and our Border Collie, Bridget. Being in nature, moving our bodies, chatting, or walking quietly creates a feeling of joy. It is a peaceful, homey feeling. It helps us connect to each other and to creation. After the derecho, part of our recovery was finding healthy woods where we could spend time and know that our woods would heal. Life would continue.
Our sons are grown now and have their own families. We still find ways to create hygge with them by continuing our traditions of time around the table, walks, long talks, playing with the dogs, and quiet afternoons. Sometimes this happens in person, but we have also learned that hygge can be created over Skype!
Hygge for me means connection, coziness, joy, peace, home. How do you create hygge? In what ways do you foster the feeling of coziness, joy, and loving relationships? Where do you find the “feeling of home”?
Wiking, Meik (2017) The Little Book of Hygge: Danish Secrets to Happy Living, Harper Collins.
Then my people will live in a peaceful dwelling, in secure homes, in carefree resting places. Isaiah 32:18
Posted by: Melanie Nollsch AT 08:00 am
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Read:Philippians 1:3-11 From the Artist: Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman Artwork: "Harvest of Righteousness" by Lauren Wright Pittman
In this familiar narrative, what stuck out for me in this reading was the juxtaposition of human and divine, the mundane and extraordinary, the humbleness of a manger and the glory of a multitude of heavenly hosts. I wanted to image this dichotomy with the everyday, intimate, tender scene of new parents and their yawning baby, enveloped by the glittering, awe-striking magnificence of God.
The holy family is framed by an almond shape called a mandorla. Mandorlas have been used in Christian art to signify the glory of God, and can also represent the intersection and fullness of two things, like heaven and earth or spirit and body. Likely, the most familiar instance of this concept is the shape made between the overlapping circles in a Venn diagram. I wanted to use this shape because this is the moment when human and divine intersect in the person of Jesus, and when the glory of God is birthed into the world. The golden field surrounding the mandorla is filled with my interpretation of the six-winged seraphim from early Christian art, representing the heavenly hosts filling the air with tidings of peace (imaged by olive branches). A seven pointed star hangs over the heads of the family, surrounded by seven other stars, a number that represents completeness.
Prayer
Breathe deeply as you gaze upon the image on the left. Imagine placing yourself in this scene. What do you see? How do you feel? Get quiet and still, offering a silent or spoken prayer to God.
Read:Luke 1:57-80 From the Artist: Hannah Garrity Artwork: "Berakah" by Hanna Garrity
In this image, Zechariah holds his baby boy. He speaks a blessing, a berakah.⁸ For his neighbors, he answers the question, “What then will this child become?” (v. 66). The intimate love of a father with his newborn son is captured in this pose. Patterns of water pour over John’s little shirt. Zechariah sees what his son will become and begins to speak his future into being from the start. As dawn breaks over Zechariah’s shoulder, his prophecy foretells God coming into the world—of light dawning in weary spaces.
Zechariah relents. God has made Her statement. He could not speak until he de-centered himself from the story. He gives the name that Elizabeth has been called to give. Zechariah’s willingness to hear the call is the action in this moment. Traditionally, he would give his first born son his own name. His neighbors are shocked by the name he chooses to give, by the prophecy, by his being able to speak again. By removing his own personal and family legacy from the picture, he is truly able to give way to the greater narrative that God is calling him to participate in.
This is an incredible moment of humility. As I created this image, I asked God’s help in identifying where I can step out of the way to forward Her vision for this weary world. She knows. Her work is greater than my legacy.
Prayer
Breathe deeply as you gaze upon the image on the left. Imagine placing yourself in this scene. What do you see? How do you feel? Get quiet and still, offering a silent or spoken prayer to God.
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8 The Jewish prayer of blessing expressing gratitude and praise to God.
“I will trust the promise. You will carry me safe to shore…”
Of the songs at the 2019 Presbyterian Youth Triennium,⁴ Rend Collective’s “My Lighthouse”⁵ was a favorite. As soon as those first bars of the song were played, the auditorium roared and came alive energized by, I believe, the Holy Spirit. The crowd of mostly young, high school age people burst into song, their hands raised high, the choreography performed harmoniously, their voices proclaiming, “I will trust the promise. You will carry me safe to shore…” I was moved to tears more than once, blessed by the message their young voices sang with conviction and gusto.
Zechariah’s canticle in Luke 1 had such conviction. Having lost his voice for his initial disbelief, Zechariah regains it just in time to praise God for God’s mercy and to pronounce a blessing, a prophecy, to his son that would set the tone for John’s life and ministry. While the neighbors and relatives gossiped about the miraculous circumstances of John’s birth—circumstances that amazed as much as frightened them—they also worried, wondering, “What then will this child become?” (v. 66). Zechariah, filled with the Holy Spirit and knowing his son would become the “prophet of the Most High,” (v. 76) spoke words of vision to a newborn that grew strong in spirit and helped lay the foundation into the way of peace. In building God’s kin-dom, let us remember there is power in the words that we speak, to anyone, but especially to our young ones as we lay the foundation for their spiritual homes.
“Your great love will lead me through. You are the peace in my troubled sea…"⁶ thousands of young Presbyterians sang these words that summer at the Elliot Music Hall.⁷ Claiming those words for their lives, their song also blessed all who heard and joined them. May we cast this vision of kin-dom and bless others with words and acts of love, hope, and mercy. May these words and acts strengthen our collective spirits and guide us all into the way of peace—guide us all home.
Words for the Beginning
Read: Luke 1:57-80 Poem by: Rev. Sarah (Are) Speed
If I could give you words
for the very beginning—
for the stretches
and the yawns,
and the opening of eyes,
for the first hiccups,
and the first smiles,
and the first purse of your lips,
I would say,
“Oh, dear child,
how you are loved.”
But the thing about love
is you can’t stop there,
so I would go on to say,
“You are strong,
stronger than you think.
And you are not alone—
look at these parents
who adore you
and these doctors and
nurses fighting for you.
And you are enough,
already enough.
You haven’t done anything yet.
You’ve just been here,
breathing,
sleeping,
and already, you are enough.
And then I might say,
“This world is a mess,
but it is your home,
and you can make it better,
so always try to make it better.
And maybe most important
of all:
there is a love
that is bigger than
my understanding,
that moves through
this world,
and I call that love God.
And that love is here,
here in this room,
and that love knows
your name by heart.”
Those are the words
I would say to you
as you stretch and yawn
and open your eyes
on the very first morning
of your very first day.
Let that be your foundation,
like Zechariah did for John.
Let love be your beginning.
Draw or journal a memory of feeling homesick. How did you feel? What did you yearn for? Close with a prayer for those who are displaced or far from home.
Read:1 Thessalonians 3:9-13 From the Artist: Hannah Garrity Artwork: "Yearning" by Hannah Garrity
Silhouette profiles of faces with diamond repetition...Inside the diamonds weave paper lace representations of love, restoration, and Christ’s forgiveness—God’s grace that alone provides the state of holiness among people. Hands, architecture, doves, food, clothing, and education—these portray some of the gifts we give to one another in faith when we meet face to face.
In this 3rd chapter of Thessalonians, Paul spends time on the ideals of faith, of restoring each other’s faith over time. We circle back to one another to connect, share, and build faith in God. From all over the world, four faces smile into the middle of the frame. Our longing to meet face to face creates a ripple effect for community building. Inside the ripples are hands, architecture, doves, food, clothing, and education symbols to represent faith in action. The faces yearn for and inspire one another from afar, like Paul in this letter of love and faith to the people of Thessalonica.
As Paul yearns for the people and the faith of the Thessalonians, he faces persecution in his own city. The news from Timothy gives Paul hope in the face of oppression and persecution. In our current global climate, whom do we yearn for? Whose good news do we rejoice in? Whose faith inspires the continued work of our own faith? For me, it is you.
Prayer
Breathe deeply as you gaze upon the image above. Imagine placing yourself in this scene. What do you see? How do you feel? Get quiet and still, offering a silent or spoken prayer to God.
