What Makes a House a Home?

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Walking through it almost seems intrusive. Like you're invading on someone's past. The walls have stories. The house was at one time a home.

Tonight we walked through the remains of someone's life. We walked through a recently (and not yet completely) vacated house. It's on ten acres with a barn, and it backs up to a very large pond complete with geese and a dock. Dreamy.....

But, as we walked through the house and I opened cabinets and glanced at pictures, I couldn't help but think of how many stories lie within its walls.

What is it that makes a house a home?

It's definitely not the brick and mortar. Not the sheetrock or the wallpaper (which would definitely have to come down in this house!). It's not even the size or the furniture left inside.

It's the stories. The life that is lived inside.

Home is such an interesting term. Always temporary on this earth, yet it feels like home will always be home.

When we walked into our home tonight, I thought to myself how hard it would be to walk away from the walls that watched me change......to walk away from the brick that protected me when I broke.

I don't know where God will allow us to land. I asked for His word as we walked through the potential house tonight. "Just tell me where you want us to be. Do not let my desires get in the way of your will."

I want anywhere we go and anything we do to be because He calls us to it.

This new house search started after our fast when I began to know that He wanted us closer to our church and closer to our church family.

So the hunt has begun.

I'm scared, nervous, excited, and ready to ride whatever adventure the Lord will take us on.

After we walked through the house and I tried to imagine what it would look like with my family in it, Luke and I walked down to the pond. A long walk with a stick in hand. He was at peace.

And unsurprisingly, so was I. Away from the hustle and bustle. Closer to God's beauty.....we walked to the pond. Holding hands. Simply being.

And as we began to walk back toward the house, it started to rain ever so slightly. And he looked up at me and smiled...."It's raining momma." And he laughed.

"It is raining baby.....let's run!"

And we ran. Laughing all the way.

As the rain started to pelt down harder, his squeals only became louder. He was thrilled to have the water soaking him. I picked him up and we really started to run, as he squealed in delight at our game.

It was a moment of peace. A moment of bliss.

I don't know that this house is "the one." Only time will tell. And we won't make a move until we know it's what God has in store for us.

But it is fun to dream....to imagine what our life would look like there as our stories begin to fill the walls and it once again changed from a house to a home.

Who knows...I guess time will tell.

.....day 165 of a year of writing.....

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