I grew up in an older farmhouse--the same house my dad spent time in with his parents and some of his siblings. The basement was damp with spiders and the occasional mouse. The upstairs bedroom windows leaked frost in winter. The linoleum floors were cracked in places. The various steps throughout the house informed any other occupant of another's whereabouts. However, I never desired a newer, more modern house. It was home.
Several years ago, it was burned to the ground and buried. Where it once stood, grass was seeded--in the dirt and dust where a family had thrived. I can't help but imagine that tiny particles of a past no longer seen are there. In the new living things, in the air, lingering in the grove surrounding.
My husband and I have moved a number of times. Each time, I nested, made it a warm, secure place for our family--from a rental on the other side of the tracks to a Victorian with a wrap-around porch to a one story ranch painted orange to a Spanish style house on an acreage with horses surrounded by fields of corn and beans. Scrapbooks filled with photos help me recall and relive hard times, good times, precious memories. A passage of time seemingly in a capsule of some sort.
Today, our home is a walk-out ranch in a quiet neighborhood. Last night, I watched a deer walk within 25 feet of me as the tree tips whispered of things above. Bunny rabbit watched and then hopped another direction. Chickens nibbled seeds from grass tips in the side yard.
Home? Yes....
However, there's another home I'd d like to build. It would be an exact replica of that old farmhouse placed on the homestead where I grew up. Although it no longer exists, it's where my roots are. My beginning perspectives, moral fiber, way of thinking all originated here. I'd like to go back to this place where it all began and reflect, gather serenity...
Ultimately, when it's all over and done, there is yet another incomprehensible ideal home. It's called heaven and it's already promised by the God who created you and me in His image. However, I imagine this to be, I have a promise that it will exceed my expectations.
In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. John 14:2
As my good friend from Chili often signs off her emails.
Believe and Dream
Amen.
I enjoyed your description of the farm house, and would like more! The cracked linoleum rang a bell for me. I would not have thought to include that in the description of the farm house in which I was raised, but it is the kind of thing that pulls me back to the 50's and 60's. Creaks and creeps (mouse, bugs) also. I think of odd "closets", like hooks behind the stairway door for Mom's clothes, behind my bedroom door for mine. Ours was a house cobbled together over many years. It was cramped here and roomy there, with a giant chest freezer that occupied one half of the room we called the "entry", and a small room off the kitchen that served as a pantry. Lots of warm or funny thoughts are triggered by your remembrance.
ReplyDeleteYour sketch of the variety of houses you have made into homes fits my picture of you as a woman with an imagination.
Thanks, too, for the reminder of the promise of our ultimate home!
Beautiful, Kathy!!! An "incomprehesible ideal home" - Heaven. The best address to be at👌🏽.
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