Returning to Transylvania Park is always a homecoming for us. When you have two uncles who thrive on making their built-in-1900 home a place of ultimate welcome, there is no other way to feel about it. I spent several Holy Week sojourns there when serving at Christ Church Cathedral. In those spring days, the front upstairs bedroom was the guest room, and a veritable bower up in the arms of blooming trees. Now, that room is smartly used as home office, [and this week, World War II War-game Central,] and the room we are in is equally welcoming.
The library is much as it has always been, and though perfect in any season it reigns at Christmastide. There is often a roaring fire, and the generous tree skims the tall ceiling. Cozy leather chairs invite you to sit a while, and books who have long ago become friends and family line the walls.
The house has always been friendly for us, but of course it is the people who live there who set that tone. We were so privileged to get in a flying visit between Sundays in order to visit them and Shannon’s mother, who now nests in the first floor spacious apartment they have closed off for her. To my astonishment on our first morning, as I reached for the coffee with one eye open, our names had been traced in gold on the Lenox cups that we had used for years. We do not get to visit nearly as often as I would like, but house and family evoked Isaiah 43:1 for me: I have called you by name; you are mine.”
Thank you, Jim and Tim for the best of visits, the most impeccably prepared food, and the fireside chats. Thank you for the love and the welcome that distance cannot compromise, and for your great good humor in shaking up your routine— as you always do— to embrace the moments we can share. Our hearts are warmed. Even though we have no tree ourselves yet, and the Nativity has not been put up, and heaven only knows what we will eat in this busy week, Christmas is already in our hearts.
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