Delights 2: home

We got home from our holiday trip today. We pulled in today to a slightly musty smell (our bonus daughter stayed here the whole time; it wasn’t an empty house. Does the house just smell and I’m used to it??) and a stack of boxes. On the drive, I pointed out the rest area where we stopped when we moved four and a half years ago. I had never even been to our city and I was so eager, so anxious. Justin was terrified that he would move us for a job and it would be awful and I would hate the house. But I loved the house. I still love the house.

When we decided to try to move, I put in search parameters on realtor.com and thought I was probably crazy. I didn’t want a huge house so I put a size maximum on it but I did want land so that had a minimum. I honestly assumed nothing would come up. But this house did. Along with another house but it was weird and I really didn’t want it. This house I fell in love with from the beginning. I loved that it was older and had character. I loved the land and the big trees. I loved the kitchen that the previous owners had remodeled and I loved the big windows. 

I still love all of those things. I also love our memories in this house. I love big table that has hosted birthday parties and weeknight dinners. I love the cookouts we’ve had in the backyard, the books we’ve read in the chairs, the Christmases we have celebrated. I love where the house is located: the many times we’ve walked to the elementary school or the ice cream truck or the bakery, the friends that live around the corner, the kind neighbors. It’s been a gift. I do think God kept it just for us.

Rationally, I assume most people probably love and appreciate their homes as much as I always have mine. But deep down, I don’t actually believe that’s true.