It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas . . .

The white kind, that is. And if you live in Utah and greatly dislike the snow on the ground, feel free to blame my younger brother: after spending two years in Brazil where he saw absolutely nothing resembling snow, well, ever--he frequently and excitedly vocalized his wish for a white Christmas.

Proof that perhaps The Secret works.

Anyway, I love this time of year. And my Christmas note this year will be short, because my thoughts of Christmas have revolved around one word: home. Because to me, that is precisely what Christmas is.

As I exited the bus and hiked up a small hill to my parents' home, I walked past all of the houses in the neighborhood I grew up in and realized that one of the fundamental feelings I associate with Christmas is familiarity. Few of these houses have changed, and my parents have never moved since the momentous occasion of my birth. (Okay, okay . . . in all fairness, since before I was born)

The interior of my parents' house is in turmoil right now: they are re-modeling the entire upstairs floor (Merry Christmas to them!) and it's approximately one-quarter carpeted. The kitchen cabinets and counters were installed not too long ago, along with a sink . . . my dad even put up an awesome tile backsplash of pretty, earthy colors.

I'm not going to lie; it doesn't look remotely homey. But it feels homey. There is space for me here. (For a few days, at least.) And the people surrounding me (including the neighbors) are all people who know me . . . and who love me despite their knowing me.

My mom put up no Christmas decorations, unless you count the Christmas cards sitting atop the old microwave (the new microwave cannot go back onto its mount until the backsplash has been thoroughly grouted and refinished). But it's Christmas here. I spent an entire Christmas Eve day chilling with my mom and my brother, getting creamed at Scrabble and card games alike.

And although my dad is currently attempting to properly connect the disposal so that the dishwasher can, indeed, be run this evening--it's home. And it always be.

Just as I know Christ has prepared a heavenly home. For me. And you. And everybody. That's why He was born and that's why, this Christmas, I am celebrating home.