The Spiritual Art of 'Coming Home'
The garage door goes up and the sound changes everything. I hear it from the kitchen where I am stirring something for dinner. The dog starts wagging, the toddler runs for the door, and the teenager looks up from his phone. In the seconds between the door opening and the person stepping through, the whole house shifts its attention. Someone is coming home.
Those first few minutes after arrival used to be the hardest part of my day. Backpacks dropped in the hallway, demands for snacks, questions about homework, and someone always needing an answer immediately. The stress of the outside world would collide with the needs of the home, and I would find myself snapping at the very people I had been missing all day.
Here is what I have been sitting with this week: the way we come home matters. That threshold between the car and the kitchen is a sacred space. The first moments of reconnection set the tone for everything that follows.
How to Handle the Transition from Work to Home
When I was teaching third grade, I learned that the way students returned from recess determined the success of the next lesson. If I let them come in wild and started talking immediately, I lost them. I learned to give them a moment to settle before I asked anything of them.
The same principle applies at home. We need a moment to settle before we can give each other our full attention. My husband David started a habit that changed everything. Before he walks through the door from work, he sits in the car for sixty seconds. He takes a breath and leaves the workday behind. He says it is like closing a file before opening a new one.
I tried it myself on the days I come home from errands or appointments. Just a moment in the driveway, a conscious choice to shift from the person I was outside to the person I want to be inside.
Creating a Peaceful Evening Routine for Families
We have a loose rule in our house now. The first ten minutes after someone arrives are for greeting only. No requests, no reminders, no problem-solving. Just hello and how was your day and I am glad you are here. This was harder to establish than it sounds. I had to stop myself from asking about homework the second my kids walked in. I had to stop unloading my own stress onto David before he had his coat off.
But the rule shifted something. The children started coming to me instead of avoiding me. The evenings felt less like a collision and more like a slow coming together.
Physical touch helps too. A hug that lasts longer than a second, a hand on a shoulder, or the toddler crawling into my lap. These small connections regulate our nervous systems in ways that words cannot. We are saying with our bodies what we have not found words for yet. You are safe, I am here, and we are together now.
"Let the house be a house of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, a house of learning, a house of glory, a house of order, a house of God."
Doctrine and Covenants 88:119
Tips for Reconnecting with Spouse After Work
The reconnection with a spouse can be the hardest one. By the time we are both home, we are tired and the children are needing things and there is dinner to make. I used to let hours pass before David and I had a real conversation. The whole evening would go by and we would fall into bed having only discussed logistics.
We started checking in with each other within the first fifteen minutes. A real question about the best part of their day or what drained them. We do not try to solve anything in that moment. We just let each other speak, and the act of being heard is often enough.
The quiet power of a low-stakes family council taught me that small regular check-ins do more for connection than long conversations saved up for when things are already wrong.
How to Make the Home a Sanctuary from the World
I fail at this regularly. There are days when I am still carrying the stress of my own afternoon and I meet the children at the door with a question about homework instead of a hug. There are evenings when David and I snap at each other within five minutes of him walking in. The collision happens.
But I have learned that the apology that follows is its own kind of ritual. I get to model what it looks like to recognize a failure and try again. "I am sorry I snapped at you. I was still thinking about something that happened earlier. Let me try again." The do-over is a gift. It shows my children that coming home is a practice, not a performance.
Frequently Asked Questions
What if my children are too energetic when they come home?
That energy is often their way of saying they are glad to see you. Instead of fighting it, channel it into a quick connection ritual. A family huddle or a minute of silliness before moving into the evening. Let them release the energy with you instead of against you.
How do I explain the ten-minute grace period to my family?
Frame it as a way of showing love. We all need a few minutes to shift from the outside world before we can give each other our best attention. It is a way of saying that the person matters more than the problem.
Does this mean I should ignore urgent issues the moment I walk in?
Prioritize the person over the problem for a few moments. A quick hug and an acknowledgment can make the other person more receptive when you do address the urgent thing. Connection first, logistics second.
What if I am the one coming home and no one greets me?
It is okay to ask for what you need. A simple "I need a minute before I can talk" or "Can I get a hug first?" teaches your family how to welcome you. You are teaching them to come home to each other.
Last night David came home late. I heard the garage door and put down the spoon. The toddler ran for the door. The teenager looked up. And for ten minutes we did nothing but be together in the kitchen. No agenda, no requests, just the sound of a family regrouping after a long day. It was a small thing that held the whole evening together.
with love,
Rachel