H is for Home

For a person who moved constantly for most of my childhood as a Navy brat, never staying in one place longer than a few years, having been in one area for nearly seven years is quite a feat, and even more so is a place to "call one’s own". I have a feeling that if we ever move, I will always remember this house…it will always hold a place in my heart, like Anne’s "house of dreams" in LM Montgomery’s book of the same name.  It is our first home, James’ and mine; prayed over, picked out, loved dearly. All of my children have learned to walk here (save Ben)…I’ve watched Ben and Isaiah leave babyhood behind and enter toddlerhood, and now Ben is leaving for his first day of kindergarten in five short days…each of the rooms has been thoughtfully and carefully decorated, mostly with my own hands, with hand me downs, flea-market finds and clearance luck (oh the tales I could tell of finding the just right thing at the just right price!)…

Even if I won the lottery tomorrow, I think I’d have a hard time letting go of this little house. (At just under 900 feet, it’s cozy!) It’s not the material things in the house that make it so dear to me. It’s the handprints on the stairs, where grubby little hands have smeared; the smell of lavendar and lilac (the smell of Lorelei’s shampoo, and her very smile, I swear); the crayon "murals" left on the living room walls; the battered places in the carpet where little feet have trod, back and forth, as they have learned to walk; the scent of James (which always seems to smell a bit of his soap and the very scent of country, grass and gasoline) around the door where his coats hang. If I sit for a while I can hear newborn cries whispered from the walls, and the prayers and songs that have been sung to quiet them, the quiet tenor of James’ voice as he reads to the children at night. If I stand in our bedroom, I can hear all the whispered dreams of a new couple and an even newer family, of fears and triumphs, of worried prayers and triumphant praises. But most of all, I can hear and see Love in every aspect of my home. I can think of no greater compliment than to be told that my house brings peace to a visitor, because although my home may be filled with toddlers and mess most days, I pray that the Prince of Peace is the first and last guest each day.

I have a feeling that even if we were to leave, my "home" would travel with me…although some of the familiar sights, sounds, and smells would be missing, the essence of it would still gently be known.