It's not big, it's not fancy and it's not clean... but it's home.
In fact, it's dusty, cluttered, duct taped and needs some tender lovin' care... but it's home.
I decided to clean my room today (and yes, the house is still standing and nobody had a heart attack). Our bedroom was never meant to BE a bedroom. It was meant to be a den, a TV room, a play room for the kids... but then we had too MANY kids. We had to relinquish our big, sprawling, double/double closets to Caleb and Jared and we moved downstairs... into the den. We had to give up our king sized bed and my rocking chair and hope chest that Jon made me for our wedding. We traded the large, empty, beautiful floors for no floor space at all. But, it's cozy (please don't ask me to admit how many times I have drilled that into my own head over the years).
There are 2 closets in that room... one was originally meant for the vacuum, winter coats in summer and other miscellaneous items that needed to be handy but out of sight (doesn't everyone have a closet just for their vacuum or was I that much of a dreamer?). Now, it's basically a junk closet. It does have SOME of my clothes but it's so small and hard to get to because the dog bed is in the way... even tho the dog doesn't use the bed because he spends the entire day in the shower...and all of the guns that we own are, for some reason, on that side of the bed... and the winter boots because those don't fit in the kitchen closet... and my large skillet, crock pot and other small appliances that I don't have room for anywhere else... get my drift? It's a cluttered disaster. It's actually a little comical watching Jon try to get in bed because I might have strategically planned that to be his side of the bed.
The other closet in the room was my dream craft closet (I don't do crafts but thought, since I had little kids when we built the house, I surely needed a craft closet). Jon built shelves in there that are deep and wide and beautiful. Now, it houses soup and flour, pasta and papers that I think I need to keep but probably should just throw out. It's a pantry. In my bedroom.
As far as the vacuum... well, when it's not lying in the middle of the kitchen/dining room floor, it does have a home... just not a whole closet to call it's very own.
I have an acquaintance that lives in a big, beautiful, everything is white and in it's very own spot house. It's just that tho, a house. Nothing has fingerprints and there's no artwork scotched taped to the walls (not a great idea by the way... sometimes it takes the paint off when you change out the artwork). She came to visit me once and, after I was done with my spiel about how cluttered and dirty and dusty and overwhelmingly small my house was, she commented "it's just lived in Susan, it's not that bad".
Alrighty then, that made me feel a whole lot better.
After many years of mulling that comment over in my head (just a few times, I haven't really let it consume me or anything... hahahahahaha), I can finally take that comment as a compliment. Honestly, I think perhaps she even meant it as a compliment.
I WANT my home to be lived in. I want it to be warm and inviting and I want people to feel like they can kick their shoes off and lie on my couch if they want. And some do. Caleb had a friend spend the night last night and it didn't take him long to put his feet up and get comfortable. His shoes joined the heap of others in the middle of my entryway (okay, so that part I DO hate and wish we had a place for shoes... but... some people wish they had a place to lie their heads at night so I guess I can deal with a few muddy shoes in the kitchen, right?).
So yeah, it needs some tender lovin' care and it's packed full of many years of memories in the form of clutter... but it's mine and it's home and there's no other place on earth I'd rather be.
And plus... my friend's kids couldn't do THIS in their home... they might break something.
Yeah!
Because everyone should be able to...
fly through the living room
at least once in life!!!
Okay, back to work... thanking God for the memories this home holds... the good ones, hard ones, sad, happy and stain on the carpet from one of the kids throwing up ones... precious, messy and from Him.
Love,
Susan
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