The perfect home: architectural detailing that makes it stand out from all the rest, a patio or deck that extends the living space outdoors, a lush manicured lawn with fountains of flowers dripping over moss covered planters, and a front porch swing swaying in the wind. Do these homes exist? They do in my dreams.
For myself, this is where I call home:
The front yard is dead and filled with weeds. Paint cracks and recedes under the demanding heat of the sun. The old single pane windows allow the scorching heat to penetrate in the summer, and invite chilling winds to enter during winter. Despite its quirks, this home is a blessing. I often think of this house as a metaphor for my life. Life will run us down if we let it, but if we focus on healing and recovering, we can and will.
In the midst of chaos, there are also places of rest. Even though things may not be perfect, we can choose to have a better perspective. My father once told me that true happiness does not reside in the acquisition of new things, it’s learning to be content with what you already have. I am still learning.
The house stands ready and waiting. I face each day with anticipation. If I think about all of the work that needs to be done, I get overwhelmed. But if I take my time, introduce myself to each room of the house, focus on one project at a time, the house reveals its secrets.
And I am privy to a new awareness, so that even a dying branch on an old apricot tree holds value as a place of rest.
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