When my husband and I went to close on our home, I felt terrible that I couldn't contribute financially. I mean, I knew I worked hard to keep our family functioning, but it wasn't a very nice feeling to watch him sign all of the paperwork with the caveat "oh, we'll add your name later" because I had no income. Not just steady income--literally, no income.
Somewhere in the process of picking out the house, making offers, packing up our apartment, and scrubbing the house clean of its former occupants, I made a promise to myself that if I couldn't get us a house, I would move heaven and earth to make the house I was provided a home.
Making a home is easier said than done, especially as children grow and careers change and roofs need replacing and basements flood and illnesses fluctuate. In my mind's eye, I know how I want my home to be, but like the development of myself into the woman I want to be, there are a lot of things I simply don't know how to do. So I'm working on it.
I have always wanted the type of home that would be a refuge for not just my family, but for any friends, acquaintances, and neighbors that come along. I want it to be a place that, while it might not always be clean, is always cozy. I want a place where visitors can walk in and immediately know that we try our hardest to keep Christ at the center of our home. We will not apologize for the life we desire to live, and we will especially not apologize for it or hide it within the walls of our personal refuge, but we will gladly invite anyone in who is willing to respect us and our beliefs, even if they do not agree.
I want my home to be a place of laughter and learning. I want to see the evidence of imagination--hence why I painted a wall so my kids could color on it and there are food coloring stains on the kitchen counter and a crocodile that lives in our bathtub (aka, a mat from IKEA. His name is Lyle.) There are shelves full of books in every room--reading material is never far away around here. There are princess gowns and blanket forts and every kind of sports ball. There are notebooks and art walls and sheet music and spaces to dance. There is culture here--it may not be classy, but it is enlightening.
I want my home to be a place of play. Every kind of play, from the swingset in the backyard to the kitchen set in the family room to the piano in the living room to the shelves full of puzzles and games in the front closet. We work hard, but we also play hard. Sometimes playing with my children is work for me--sometimes playing with me is work for my husband (as anyone who has ever played Monopoly with me can attest).
I want my home to be a place of growth. Although my husband jokes that the gigantic ruler in our front entryway is simply a way to tell how tall a burglar is before he/she runs out the door, to me it is a record of the lives of my children. They ask to stand by it often and in those moments I can see them aging before my eyes. Those inches that they pack on come slowly, a millimeter at a time, but when I notice that she has sprung up four inches since her last birthday I am able to see the difference between what was and what is.
I want my home to be a breath of fresh air. From the plants in our yard to the occasional scented candle or wax warmer, it is important to me that my home feels, smells, and sounds clean even if it is cluttered. There are times when I turn off all the inside noises and open the windows just to hear the renewal of spring and the see the whitening effect that direct sunshine can have on a person's life.
Our house is not perfect. It is not new and it is not fashionable, and we have a whole notebook full of our home improvement project lists (or we would, if we actually took the time to write our dreams down). Little by little, we are making changes. Some are temporal and tangible, like fresh paint and new doorknobs. Some are spiritual, like consistent scripture study and family prayer, and some are emotional, like the institution of family hugs and the passing of the "loving sign" and the kisses of kindness that my daughter's preschool introduced to our lives. Each of these changes, small or large, expensive or frugal, serves to change our house and change us--and that is what truly makes our dwelling place a home.
And that is all I have ever wanted.
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