Home? A confession and a prayer

Home - the places I longed to go when growing up, that were desirable to me were
   my great-grandparents Robinson, and
      my grandparents Robinson
         (before I realized the two-faced nature of my grandmother,
            before her affections turned to the younger grandchildren).

My home was not a refuge, not an example, not a place I longed to go.
It colored my view of Booker, I am sure.

Conflict permeated the very fiber of my parent's marriage, of my home life.


My church in Booker became a bit of a refuge, a respite, a home, a place where I was accepted,
a place without conflict.
   (But that came at a price because my mother did not accept that church or my faith
   because I attended that church. So my choice brought conflict and judgment.)

I lived for events that took me away from home:
   camps (always 4-H), overnight band trips,
      tours (4-H short course to Washington, DC, European Wind Band tour, mission trips to Brasil),
   visits to grandparents, fishing trips, ...,
in general, for things that got me away from my parents.

When I left for college, 
   I never wanted to go home. 
      I only went when I had to go, felt compelled to go. 
         I dreaded going home.
            When possible, I took others with me,
          not because my home was a wonderful place I wanted to share,
      but as a buffer between me and my parents, and to expand their horizons,
to challenge their biases and prejudices (when I took Africans, black men, into my father's home).

Those are the attitudes about home and family I brought into my marriage, my home. 
It was not intentional, but it was there, below the surface. 
I brought the conflict, the anger, the dread, the separation (emotional distance and reluctance). 


This is why my residence has not always felt like my home (personal), 
   Sherilyn's home, my kids' home, 
      yes, but not necessarily mine. 
      The room and bed I share with my wife, 
   in the way I referenced them, 
were hers, not mine or ours.


Lord, grant Sherilyn and the kids the grace to forgive me. 
I have not always longed to be home, to be with them, 
though I do so now more than ever before.


May 13, 2012