What Is Home?

Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me.  My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.  You know the way to the place where I am going.

John 14: 1-4

I sit in the office, brain trying to wrap itself around what to write, and I allow a slow-moving, slow-rolling wave of past experiences wind its way through my mind's screen.  Images of childhood, first days of school, climbing trees, swimming.  Images of high school, images colored in instagram sepia because the memories seem to come from a place long ago and far away.

I sit in the office and look around at the misplaced, the off-the-walls, the stacked, signs of work that's going on in this house.  Work going on to make it ready to sell.  Sell it so that we can move.

Once again.  Where the army takes us.

We have a list of everything that needs to be done to the house.  For the house, because this work has been more of a labor of love and we have gotten to know this house intimately.  We want her to shine; we want her to feel attractive and generous, and fulfilled.  We want her to feel needed.

Did I say 'her'?

Yes, this house has become a member of the family.  And we've only been here a year.  Does that happen to you?  I walk her familiar rooms and run my hands along her walls and woodwork.  I know her scrapes and scratches.  I heal her wounds.

My husband speaks of her construction.  She has good bones.  He says.  She was well built.  He says.  I watch him sanding walls that have been bumped - sand and touch, sand and touch.  He talks to her as he works - cajoling, soothing, laughing.  He wants her at her best.  I watch him dress her up with crown - it is elegant and fitting.  I help him lay tile - rugged and wonderful, right next to the gloss of dark wood.  I am amazed at the transformation and I feel the house breathe solid and strong.  Contrast between rustic and sheen.  I watch my husband custom craft and fit so that the new blends perfectly with the old.  Nothing shouts I am here, look at me - the beauty is in the whole, not the parts.

I sit in the office and look around at the red ladder, and the stacked-and-ready-to-be-installed door handles, and the door frame that is only half-painted.  This too shall pass.  Soon, she will be at her company best - all dressed up - eager to please.  And we will sell her so that we can move.

Once again.  Where the army takes us.

My sister once asked me about our many moves.  She said it was overwhelming to her - to think about setting up a new house in a new place - on a regular basis.  She said it would be hard to make all those new places into a home.  And she was right.  A house is only a house (even if I do insist on calling it a 'her').  It is only a place.  A building.  Home is the living that goes on inside the house.

Home is family, and love, fighting and making up.  It is shared decisions and planning.  It is working together on the house in order to sell it.  It is my daughter who hears "Neighbor Day" instead of Labor Day and insists that we go talk to the neighbors.  It is thanksgiving.  It is sweet dreams and security.

A little over two thousand years ago, Jesus left a home he loved to light our way in the darkness, to redeem us, to show us the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  He is preparing a new home for us - one that He bought to give to us.  And He bought it at a steep price.  It won't need to be spiffed up and polished; it is already perfect.

Our home will forever be with Him, wherever that takes us.

Linking with:  Three-Word Wednesday, #TellHisStory

Inside This House

And into whatsoever house ye enter, first say, Peace be to this house.

Luke 10:5

Inside this house 

Memories of years past, 

People and parties, 

Dreams, 

Growing up, aging and ageless.  

Inside this house, 

Out with the old in with the new, 

The gently used, 

The hand me downs, 

The treasured.  

Inside this house,
A little frayed at the edges,
Comfortable and comforting,
Placed lovingly in seasoned spaces.
Savored.

What was empty, filled.
What was longed for, received.
What was silent, murmuring and rustling with life.
Family life.
Home life.

God Bless this House

Heavenly Father, Thank you for the blessings you give us every day.  Thank you for this home, for this neighborhood, for friends and family.  Most especially, thank you for your Son.

Covenant of Peace

Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed," says the LORD, who has compassion on you. 

Isaiah 54:10

It has been an eventful two weeks.  We signed for our house.  We installed a new floor, and painted two rooms.  We handled a couple of plumbing issues.  We moved our things from the rental to the new home.  We cleaned, patched, painted and mowed at the rental.  Our service provider for internet and tv said he'd have to dig under the driveway for installation.  We canceled, called around and found someone else.  We are now hooked up.  We had the truck inspected in order to get it registered.  It failed.  The people who worked on it, did not do the job correctly.  We titled and licensed the truck.  Little things - nothing like shaking mountains or removable hills - but enough to fill our days and make for uninterrupted sleep through nights too short to completely replenish.  

Tired.  Sore.  A little bit grumpy.

We are in a beautiful house.  We have met the neighbors; they are wonderfully friendly.  Household stuff is getting organized and put away.  Our dining room set that has been unavailable for the last year is being assembled, cleaned, and readied for use.  Moving furniture, hanging curtains and pictures, deciding on bathroom towels and rugs.... Every house we've lived in has had its own personality - its own needs - its own way to show off.  The challenge is to discover that personality, those needs - to facilitate the making of a home.

House and home - two different things.  A house is a shelter, a base of operations, a physical place.  A home is a refuge, a sanctuary - comfortable, safe, efficient.  We have just moved from a house to a home.  Like a covenant of peace.  Just a little more work to go...

Heavenly Father, thank you for our new home.  Help us to make it a place of comfort and peace for all - for our family and for our guests.  Help us to recognize you in every part of our lives and our world and to put you first in everything we do.  Thank you.

Bloom

That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,

which yields its fruit in season

and whose leaf does not wither—

whatever they do prospers.

Psalm 1:3

"Mom, it's purple flowers.  The tree."  We were driving to church.  My daughter was being her observant self.  She has been extra vigilant lately, watching the news in the mornings - keeping her eyes and ears open for the daily forecast.  Definitely a warm-weather girl, she was really excited to get into her shorts drawer last week - shorts and t-shirts.  And sandals.  Funny girl -  she shows me how the pink in the plaid of her shorts matches the pink shirt she's picked out, that matches the pink sandals... Where did she get that (I'm rolling my eyes, here...)

One of the discussions my husband and I have on a fairly regular basis, is about where we are going to retire.  This last move was a hard one.  We left a house we loved, a house we had worked on - made to fit our wants and needs - to start over again in a new place.  I remember talking with my sister about the impending move.  She was telling me that the thought of moving boggled her - having to set up a house, establish - new friends, new schools, new church, new, new.  Silly me.  I told her that home isn't a place - it's not the bricks, wood, plumbing, and yard.  It's not the house.  It's the people - the family; it's bringing out and putting up the keepsakes that travel from place to place.  The pictures, the books, the familiar...

So, we moved into a house - a rental.  And we should be happy.  We have our stuff - we both have jobs.  My daughter has been able to establish a schedule that she likes.  It's not a small house.  It has a big yard - with trees, and grass.  It has a big driveway.  It's not too close to neighbors; it's not too far from shopping and amenities.  It's in a safe neighborhood.  We thought - two years.  We can make it work for two years.  Yet....

We've been struggling with this house.  It doesn't belong to us.  We can't change the things we want to change.  There is no flow - the rooms are choppy and isolated.  We have made the house work for us, but it doesn't fit us...  Everyday, we think two years...

We love this area.  It fulfills a lot of our family wants and needs.  I like four seasons.  The area has four seasons.  My husband and daughter like warmth.  Spring, summer and fall stay fairly warm - winter is short.   It's close to the things we need - a good church, a military base, a good school district, active adult programs for my daughter, proximity to interesting locations - the beach, historical sites, cities.  The people are friendly.  There are lots of outdoor recreation opportunities... We love this place.

We're in the process of looking for a house to buy.  Something that fits.  Something that will be a home for us - a place of refuge.  These trees fascinate me.  I was impressed with their fall colors last autumn.  I enjoyed the tracery of their bare branches during the winter.  I relish the neon green of the leaves that are now pushing through the spring buds.  The variety and intensity of the colors blooming amaze me.

About two states ago, as I was leaving a 'dream job' for our move to Texas, I was told to bloom where I was planted.  That's what these trees are doing - glorious leaves and blossoms.  That's what we need to do here - God is preparing a place for us - a sanctuary.  We may find it soon, we may not.  Our job, my job, is to bloom where we're planted.  Home is not this house - home is us.  It's time to appreciate those purple flowers with new eyes.  Eyes of gratitude.  And praise.

Thank you, God.  For providing us with this home, this place, this opportunity.  Help me to choose joy.