Christ at the Center: Our Domestic Church

Making a home for my family until we make it home to Heaven.

For several years the walls of my home had been the same tan color. Its neutrality and tone served us well, hiding the little fingerprints and scuff marks that come with family life. But, soon the little ones grew out of the toddler stage and it became painfully obvious that the house was long overdue for a refresh. 

I knew where I wanted to start, the front living room, or parlor. It’s where we receive our guests and welcome each other home. Where the dog barks and kids run as soon as Daddy walks in. Where I draw back the curtains each morning to let the light in and set flickering candles to relax at night.

I flipped through paint samples for days, finally choosing the lightest blue for the walls and the brightest white for the trim. We splurged on the highest quality, cleanable, smudge resistant paint that promised to cover the old color in just one coat. I stirred up the beautiful hue and hoped for the best.

I rolled up my sleeves, rolled on the color and the room was transformed. The parlor seemed to instantly expand as the shadows in the corners were replaced by bouncing light. A few hours of work later, I stood back to take it in. I rested my head on my paint-splattered hand and sighed in delight. After years of sandy brown, the cool, clean tone was a breath of fresh air.

Though I moved all of the furniture back in its place and used the same plants and decorations, everyone who saw it was enchanted. Our friends and family who entered seemed as refreshed as I was to welcome them in through a room that reflected my family and the joy I find in making our home.  

My husband even said to me “Now that I’ve seen it, I can’t imagine any other color in this room!”

I was well pleased with my color choices as well and the calming effect of the soothing shades. I’d been favoring blues, reminiscent of Mary, the past several years but I didn’t think much of it beyond a quiet devotion and good aesthetics. 

The next afternoon I ran out for a small can of paint to continue my touch-ups. As I often do between errands, I stopped by the nearest Chapel, which happened to be our sister Church where we sometimes attend Mass. I frequent the chapel there as it is available all day and not too far from home.

Let me tell you, I’ve done it all in that place! I’ve rejoiced, I have cried, I’ve prayed out loud and sat with Jesus in comfortable silence. In good times and bad, I have run to that chapel. I’ve been beckoned there for impromptu worship by the cross on its proud steeple, reminding my heart who waits for me there.

It’s Jesus Christ, fully present, body, blood, soul and divinity under the appearance of a Eucharistic host. Oh the comfort there, the holy longing, the peace unsurpassed by any other place short of His presence! What unbelievable availability. What an undeserved gift.

The Church is the only place my soul stops its wandering, its seeking out of God, because it is finally home. When I walked toward the Chapel door that day, who waited beyond was the one thing on my mind. 

I entered, genuflected and found a kneeler. I clasped my hands together and closed my eyes to pray. Twenty minutes later I opened them, looking down at my folded hands. I noticed that there were small blue speckles on my red nail polish. It was my beloved blue paint, still stuck to me from the days of work.

I raised my eyes to Jesus and laughed out loud in the otherwise empty and silent space because I realized at that moment that I had painted my parlor the exact color of the Chapel walls!

The lightest blue and the brightest white.

I had, unconsciously, painted my physical home like the home of my soul. Making my front room match the one where Jesus welcomes me.

I enjoy the space even more now, knowing these same colors surround the Lord with whom I always long to be. They are there even when I can’t be. I see them and so does He, and somehow it makes me feel closer to Jesus during my busy days.

I do strive, in many ways as a wife and mother, to make my home a domestic Church. 

Home, like Church, is where we refresh ourselves, where we leave the world behind, where there is intimacy, joy and love in every space. Where new life begins, old traditions are kept and growth takes place. Home, like Church, is where we find family, where we receive nourishment, where we experience unconditional love. 

Church, like home, is an anchor in an ever-changing world.

Church, like home, is a place we can always go back to, no matter how far we roam.  

And the reason for all of this is Christ at the center. 

At the center of the monstrance.

At the center of the Mass.

At the center of the tabernacle.

At the center of the altar.

At the center of our faith.

At the center of our families.

At the center of our hearts.

At the center of our lives.

When we center ourselves in the Eucharist, we’re as good as home!