Posted: Tuesday, November 20, 2018 - 10:04am
Today I sit in my office and think about all the amazing things I’m thankful for; my family, friends, co-workers and so much more. But what to write about in this thankful blog. Then it came to me.
I am thankful for my house because it is my home. Keeper of secrets great and small, a measurement of our growth and protects us from the outside world. There is no other possession that I hold dearer to me then my home. This is the story of how my house became a home.
When I was a young child my parents moved us into the place, I call home. As a 5-year-old you don’t think much of the place you live as long as the roof doesn’t leak, and the heat works your ok. As I grew up, and my grandfather marked my height on the kitchen doorway, I began to realizing that this was not just a house, but a home. A home in which I was safe, loved and cared for in. There was a magic that lingered in my home. Everyone who came into my home felt welcome, at ease and happy. It was as if the house was able to settle their fears. My home was always warm in the winter by the powerful wood-stove that held its place in the center of our home pushing warmth. With the wood stove cranking in the living room and the kitchen full of sweet baking smells, and the sound of children playing filling the air; our house became a home.
As I grew, I left my childhood home as so many do. I had a few apartments and eventually settled in a beautiful house, happily married with 3 amazing children. The house was stunning, we were surrounded by great neighbors, friends and yet it wasn’t a home for me. Life continued on as it always does. My children grew from infants to toddlers. Life continued but my marriage did not. I found myself moving back into my childhood home with my 3 children. With my amazingly strong mother at my side we turned the 2-car garage into an In-Law Suite where my mother and younger brother resides.
I had forgotten how much power my childhood home had. I walked into the heart of the house and stood there. I immediately felt a deep sigh of relief come over me. The weight of the world was no longer on my shoulders and I could breathe easy. The power of my childhood home had done it again. It eased my fears and helped my heavy heart to heal.
The last 5 years my children have aged in this amazing home. They have thrived with the love and generosity of our community, family and friends. I must say I have thrived the last 5 years as well. I do believe that my home helped me to heal.
Now as I look to the future of my family I see no other home but the one we have now. Our home was built in the 1800’s and needs a lot of work but I will do everything in my power to keep our home going. I have spoken with my cousins, friends of the family and community members; they have all had that uncanny feeling when they walk into my home. It may be superstitious but I will not question the magic of this old farm house. I intend to honor the magic the best I can.
This is a glimpse of the story of my old farm house and why I am thankful for my home. There is a love that radiates from the walls that cannot be denied.