I read an article this morning that reminded me of the graveside service for my brother-in-law.   After the minister gave the benediction, his grandson released twelve ‘homing pigeons’.  My heart pounded as the pigeons circled over the grave, and each circle expanded as they reached about 250 feet, then the last three circle brought the pigeons close together; as they exited toward the East.  I talked with the owner of the pigeons, and he told me that he lived about 15 miles to the North of Birmingham, but the pigeons would make the trip home before he did.

How does 'homing pigeons' find their way home, I don't know.  But I did go to Goggle and found that the secret of carrier pigeons' uncanny ability to find their way home has been discovered by British scientists: The feathered navigators follow the roads just like we do.  I must confess, I grinned when I read this. 

 I want to talk with you about home....

                                               "GOING HOME"

In the last forty years I have been asked, are you going home for Christmas? Many times.  Some, who at the time thought Bessemer, AL, was home for the Moore family.  Most ministers and family work their "Going Home" in at some point of time before or after  Christmas day. But like the 'homing pigeons' we found our way home for Christmas.  It seems there's a sort of wistfulness in the air this time of the year.  Sometimes it's just beneath the level of consciousness - a quiet, tear-stained sadness . . . a longing for home.

You do know there are some who have never really known the wonder of having a home.  When we sold our house in Hopewell, AL and moved to Harrodsburg, KY we had no home to go home to. The manse on Robards Court became home.  Then, Lexington, AL became home, then Ackerman, MS became home, then Glencoe AL became home, then back to Ackerman, MS, then back to Glencoe, AL; now Hokes Bluff, AL.  Each of the churches provided a manse, and each became home; or did they?

Everyone wants to go home.  I well remember the WW 2 years, the physical yearning for home/family.. That gnawing in the pit of my stomach.. That longing for home that we call home sickness. I have to admit that over the years I have had a hard time answering, are you going home for Christmas?  Not because I'm unaware of our travel plans.  One Christmas a motel room was home for our son and us.  We did make it on to Hopewell Christmas day. Sometimes I feel like a displaced a person.

Now our parents have died, and I've wondered if a home can still be a home when the people who lived there are no longer alive? What reminders there are that homes in this life are so temporary, passing. Sometimes we think we've found home . . . sunk down roots, secured our future, established our true home.  But it's an illusion. Houses are sold, homes are broken, lives are lost.  People move and change. In this world we have no abiding home.  We are truly pilgrims, vagabonds.

I hope you know that in this world we have no abiding home.  As hard as one may try, we will never find a permanent home for our heart - here on this earth.  So where is home?  Where's that place, that feeling for which we all long?  Someone has said, and I agree, "Home is where the heart is."  So where is our heart?  Locate our heart, and we find where home is as well.  You see, for those of us who are Christians, home is where Christ is.

Knowing you'll be there, dear ones, will be worth all the manses we have lived in - the separation of earthly family; for when we get to the end of the way, and see the light of that city, heaven, smell the prettiest flowers blooming; how beautiful heaven must be - a place where we'll never grow old - what a day that will be.

Praise the Lord for His "Amazing Grace, that saved a wretch like me - and you - and you - and you."

In "HIS" love and care, I commend you to "HIM."

      ><))):>  In "HIS" Service   Bro. Roy