Northern Lights, Fairbanks, Alaska
Photo by Dirk Lummerzheim.

With this story, I conclude my winter remembrances. Over this winter, I passed considerable time in the Writing House up behind our home in Central Oregon. I have found myself recalling places and people that have brought me home to myself. The story I tell you here is one of my most cherished homecoming tales. Although it occurred more than a few years ago, I remember the celebration as if it happened last evening:

The house at 1350 Viewpointe Drive in Fairbanks, Alaska, was ordinary in one sense. It was sort of a tract home, but it was the first home we owned together.  However, it was far from ordinary in another sense. It was high on a hill just north of Fairbanks and looked out on the Alaska Range, including the mountain that the Alaska Native peoples call “the Great One, Denali,” known by others as Mt. McKinley. Situated above the ice fog in winter, we looked out on clear skies during the few daylight hours.  In the summer, we were able to do all of the gardening we desired in a series of terraces that cascaded down to the street.  The extra hours of summer light in the land of the Midnight Sun also gave our garden a big boost.

In addition to our home’s situation, our lives there were blessed from the start. At the time, I was the principal of the downtown pubic school, Denali Elementary.  I already knew from experience that the students, teachers, parents, and neighbors associated with that school were quite special; however, on moving day I learned how spectacularly special they were.

All during our late October move-in day, the teachers and parents from our school ferried furniture and clothing from the house we’d been caring for to our new, real home. And then, after the last truckload of goods arrived at our front door, the parents and teachers gathered in the kitchen, offering a special potluck meal for all of us.

But the best was yet to come. One of our Alaska Native teachers, Kathleen, told us to get our caps and jackets and come outside.  As we gathered in the dark on the front lawn on that early winter night, she told us:  “Look up! The spirits are showering a blessing on this house.  The auroras are blessing this home and us all. And right in the midst of a full moon!”

Sure enough, we were totally spellbound. The northern lights were even more magnificent that usual. The greens and pinks, the glowing whites were more dazzling than I’d ever seen and all of us watched with genuine awe. But what was most unusual was the direction that the auroras were traveling. Usually, we saw them in intermittent waves, high up in the sky or even toward the horizon.

This time, on this night, we watched an aurora shower. The northern lights were raining down on us. And it seemed to us all that the northern lights “rain” was falling directly on our house. Kathleen called out to all of us: “The spirits are blessing David and Karen’s home!” She went on to whisper: “If we’re real quiet, we’ll be able to hear the auroras.”

Well, I’m sure that our Alaska Native parents and teachers were the only ones to actually hear the northern lights. I’ve always felt that their way of knowing is more well developed than is mine. Finally, we were told: “The spirits wish you peace.”

And so it was, that modest house at 1350 Viewpointe Drive became a peaceful place. It was a magnificent and happy place for Karen and me. We believe that was so because the northern lights blessed our home that night.

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How about you?  When you think back on your favorite home, where was it? And, what made it so special for you? What particular special occasion do you remember?