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Homecomings and Coming Home

© Dorothy Hill

I was going home for the first time in years. When I was growing up, I had two homes. One was the house I shared with my family. An early morning fire destroyed it years ago. The other home was Hebron, my church.

Even though I lived in town, the rural area where Hebron was located was my community; its inhabitants were my extended family. It didn't matter whether we were actually related by blood or not. A greater bond connected us. It was to this home, the church I had grown up in, that I was going home to.

My father had been a member of Hebron for over 50 years before he moved closer to my brother and myself. He had been a deacon, a teacher, and the treasurer for many years. Before my mother's death, she had been active in the church, also. My closest friends, when I was growing up, were members of this church.

So many of my memories involved Hebron. When I was growing up, the church was the center of our lives. Everything we did involved the church in some way. There were hayrides on the dark country roads, Easter Egg hunts and sunrise services, Christmas programs and parties, and even fellowships at Halloween to keep us out of trouble. The church was more active in providing activities for the youth because there wasn't much else available. When summer sports were just for the guys, the church organized a softball team for the girls. The memories--I couldn't wait to go home.

The day arrived; I made the trip. But as soon as I entered the door, I felt that I had made a mistake. I had come home to a familiar building, but the people were strangers. Where were the people that I once knew and loved? When did these strangers replace them?

I will have to admit that the people were nice. One of the gray-haired men in front of me turned and waved. Another gray-haired man several more seats in front of me also made a welcoming motion. I felt welcomed but out of place. What had happened to my people? For a brief moment I understood what was meant by "You can't go home again...." The past was the past. It was over.

I'm not sure when it happened. A profile here. A nose there. A familiar twist of hair. I took a closer look at the individuals in the crowd. I did know some of these people. I just hadn't recognized them. They had gotten older, but then so had I. And so began a time of laughing and reminiscing. I had come home after all.

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