RONDA RICH: Home for Christmas

As a child growing up, Christmas was pure joy and delight. The season began always the week after Thanksgiving when the director of our church Christmas play handed out the pageant parts. I always got the biggest part because I enjoyed memorizing while the rest of the kids preferred making better use of their time.

I was two years out of college when I spent my first Christmas away from home and, while it was one of the loneliest, most miserable days of my life, it was keenly important. In the midst of that lonely, snowy Christmas day in Washington, D.C., I first learned the true meaning of a place called home.

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