This post was originally published at Life Nurturing Education and Renae was kind enough to offer it up for me to post here while I am out of town. Please check out her site and if you like what you see, subscribe to her feed
The beautiful houses in glossy pages of magazines urge me to decorate. Curtains hide a few cracks, but they don’t cover bare concrete floor or holes in the wall. Our 1950s fixer-upper does not resemble Better Homes and Gardens or Pottery Barn. I am learning to accept it. Houses are just sticks and bricks embellished with fabric. Homes are made of something else entirely.
Home reminds me of frosting Christmas cookies with Mom, learning about car engines from Dad, and laughing during games of Monopoly with my brother. Love shines brightly even in misty memories of hateful words and wounded hearts. In family, hope endures and forgiveness stretches to cover most transgressions. These relationships forge early ideas of love for good or bad.
My children’s concept of home is forming in their hearts now. What am I communicating to them? That we live in a “fixer-upper full of roaches” as my son’s parody of Madeline stated, or that this is a place for us to live in peace creating sweet memories.
More than a remodeled kitchen, I want laughter to resound off the walls.
More than pristine flooring, I want peace to reign.
More than new furniture, I want love to engulf us.
Our house is far from finished, but our home is quite comfortable.