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Take Me Home
March 14, 2025
Ezekiel 18:21-28 | Matt 5:20-26 | Psalm 130
Psalm 130 begins with, “Out of the depths I have called to you, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice; let your ears consider well the voice of my supplication.” This quote immediately made me think of the picture I have shared here with you. To quote popular Christian singer Anne Wilson, “Let me tell you ‘bout my Jesus.” Here’s my story. I was blessed that my parents moved us to East Greenwich in 1965 when I was 8 years old. My parents were both very active at St. Luke’s (although my mom took a “break” to spend 12 years as the organist and choir director at St. Paul’s in Wickford). I was in the choirs from age 8 to 18, played the organ and substituted at various churches (Priscilla Rigg was my teacher). I was blessed to have Pat Hallenbeck as my confirmation instructor, youth group leader and second mother (as described in my Lenten blog last year). My Jesus was the epitome of “God is love.” I was in leadership roles at EG High School, and was headed off to Rutgers in the fall of ’75. God blessed my life over and over. My parents had done a great job with me, but there was one more hurdle for them. I had started dating the man I would marry and have two children with, who had no interest in Christianity. My dad was not a fan of this person. When I told Dad I wanted to marry him as I wrapped up college, Dad chose to make a list of the reasons why I shouldn’t. My mom told my dad her fear, that if he spoke to me about the list, he’d risk alienating his only daughter. My dad said he thought it was that important. We had the talk, and I married the person anyway. They threw me a beautiful wedding, and had done everything they could to set me on my way. Most importantly, they had introduced me to my Jesus.
By twelve years later, we had a 4 and a 3 year old. My dad had been a good forecaster. He was correct with the list. I continued my walk with Jesus, in order to not lose sight of who I was. I found a support group at another church, and went to a meeting there. Their parish hall was filled with items for a rummage sale the next day. On a chair was the picture that I have used with this blog. It was not framed; it was just the picture, propped on a folding chair, with a little piece of paper on the seat which read, “please take me home.” The woman leading the support group was encouraging me to take the picture, as I lingered in front of it at the end of the meeting. I said, “I can just imagine my husband’s reaction if I walked in the house with a LARGE picture of Jesus!!” But after wandering around the chair for awhile, I took the picture, and the little piece of paper that said “please take me home.” I had Jesus’ picture professionally and beautifully framed, and hung it on the wall in a spare room in my home. It was where I would go to call to my Lord, out of the depths of my life at that time, letting Jesus hear the voice of my supplication. There was one time I literally felt His hand on my shoulder, comforting me. My Jesus was the shepherd, trying to keep me in the fold.
One day before my husband “abandoned us” (my father’s words), I needed to use his car. I noticed a small piece of paper on the floor in the back seat. I picked it up without remembering that I had used my husband’s car the night I had gone to that support meeting. On this paper, there was one word… “Edelweiss.” I was confused, and wondered why there was a paper there with that word on it. I turned it over and got chills…it said, “please take me home.” My Jesus had called me by name. My dad’s favorite song was “Edelweiss,” and we danced to it at my wedding. My college roommates called me “Weissie.” Years later when my son took voice lessons from Valerie Nicolosi at St. Luke’s, he sang “Edelweiss” to me at his recital. I gave my dad a music box that played “Edelweiss,” with a picture of us dancing at my wedding on the top of it. After my dad died, my mother…despite her dementia…brought me the music box and told me to “please take it home.” Over 30 years later, Jesus’ picture is on the wall in my room. I speak to Jesus in the picture, and I dare say I see his expressions change. I know that He likes when I speak aloud to Him, because that is when He blesses me with cleansing tears that I rarely shed otherwise. The typed words, under Jesus’ picture in the frame, proclaim that the sacred heart of Jesus is truly the King and Friend of my home. Pictures of my parents, and Lisa Johnson and I, are close by underneath the King, as is that music box. And one of my Lenten “disciplines” this year is to sing “Seek ye first the kingdom of God” to my Lord each day. I hear in my voice the sacred tone of my mother, the strength of my father, and assurance…that no matter what challenges life may bring my way, I am covered by the love of my Jesus. He is my Home that can never be broken.
Heidi Johnson
