Home Sweet Home 12-26-12

Home Sweet Home

After taking quite some time off from the blogging world, I am back! I can't promise regular blog entries, but hopefully there won't be anymore two to three month hiatus's. I am still in process of switching blogs as well...but am not quite ready to fully make the switch. I will get there. All in due time, right?

We are home for Christmas. Home as in, residing in the house I was born into. I have been looking so forward to coming here for a few days. The days and weeks leading up to Christmas were so very busy and filled with unexpected struggles. Each day, for quite some time, has felt like a daily hill to climb, and when I fall into bed at night I just thank the Lord that I made it through another day, and have one day less to be pregnant. I am so thankful for a healthy baby...but the nausea is daunting and there is no rhyme or reason to it. While I try to be the mom my kids need and the teacher my students need and the wife my husband needs and the friend my friends deserve...I find myself relieved to fall into bed at night where for at least a few hours, I can rest in oblivion and feel nothing. We are in the home stretch and I am so thankful for that. I have about 4 or 5 more weeks to go until this baby will be make its appearance. I can't wait for food to taste normal again and to make it through a day without battling vomit. I long to have more energy and to have some semblance of order in my life. But I am not complaining. We have a healthy, beautiful baby growing inside of my womb. We are abundantly grateful.

But being home is like finding some sort of respite from the chaos. No schedule. No demands. No expectations. My sister made my mom and dad a calendar for Christmas. She put a picture of their front door on the cover with this quote, "The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned. I long to be at home wherever I find myself." My parent's front door is quite simple. They have an old fashioned screen door that to many may appear worn and old. The kitchen hasn't been remodeled since they bought this house before I was born. It is as clean as can be, however, not beautiful by today's standards. But it holds almost 30 years of my memories...I know every nook and cranny and every bit of the faded linoleum. The dining table is just as old as the kitchen, but its where my parents had their first meal with Jonathan and it is where I hit my chin when I refused to eat my peas when I was 5 and fell off my chair. If you dropped in on Christmas Eve you would probably think it was busy and chaotic. But to us, it is homey and comfortable. We sit around wrapping presents and baking and listening to music and frosting cookies. We have a beautiful Christmas morning together. Probably my favorite part of Christmas. My parents then host about 30-40 people for Christmas dinner. They make about 99% of the food and you can imagine the work that entails. There are tables in almost every room. We have had homeless stragglers and family friends and friends of friends who don't have anywhere else to go. My mom always finds at least one gift for everyone who comes...even if someone just shows up. She is magical like that. Then they all leave and we clean up for hours. As much as we kids lament the work and the time my parents have to pour into the entire process, it is our family process. And it is a lesson to us if we dare to uncover it. A lesson of self sacrifice and servanthood. A lesson of sacrifice and joy. 

The days after Christmas were my favorite as a child. It was the one week of the year where my parents didn't work. This freed us up to go to a movie as a family and play games and many nights we would have family friends over and my parents would actually sit and relax for a few minutes. We would laugh and time would stand still. It still kind of does. This picture of my parents' living room explains, without words, why we love this place so much. 

I love that I have a place to call home. That my mom and dad still welcome us with big hugs, even if we saw them two days ago. I love that my dad always walks us out and they both stand in the driveway and wave as we drive down the road. It sounds like a fairy tale. In truth, we are just like every family. We have had our struggles, trust me. We have faced pain and triumph. We have persevered. And in the end...we always have a place to come...HOME. 

I pray that Jon and I can create this same place for our children. A sense of togetherness and acceptance and wisdom and hope and love. I love that when we get home after we have been gone awhile, Landon comments on how much he missed the smell of our house or the way his room feels. I love it that home is a place he loves. May it always be that way.