It Wasn’t a Home; It Was a House
Tuesday was a very sad day. I stood at the entrance of our church building and watched as the house we lived in for almost fifteen years was demolished and hauled away in big trucks. We haven’t lived in that house for almost seven years, but the memories we had there are etched on our hearts and minds.
The Central church of Christ owned that house when Jim became their full-time minister in January of 2001. It hadn’t been lived in for about seven years and was in terrible shape, but my eyes could see what it could become with some love and care. It had always been a dream of mine to have a big old house to remodel and turn into a comfortable place for our family and for visitors who might need a place to stay.
We had never lived in a “parsonage” owned by the church. We had always bought our own house so that we could do what we wanted to make it our own. Before Jim gave the final “yes” to accepting the preaching position, they wanted me to walk through the house and make sure I was ok with living there. It was a scary walk. It took place at night and when I entered the door from the garage into the laundry room, I felt as though I was walking into a very dark cave. The kitchen was dark and the adjoining family room was covered in almost black wood paneling. I’ll shorten this story – the rest of the house wasn’t much better. It was 2,600 square feet of outdated, dark ugliness – big bird yellow back splash, avocado green carpet, and flocked orange bird-of-paradise wall paper lived in that house (Can you tell it was built in the early 1970s?). The only thing it had going for it was the fact that it was big and I knew it could be beautiful someday.
Jim said “yes” to the job, and so the work began on the house. The elders asked me to give them a list of what would have to be done to make it livable and I went to work planning what could be repaired and painted and what would need to be replaced. I was careful with what I asked for because I knew their budget was small.
And that’s where the wonderful memories began in that house. The members of the very small Central church were so helpful in getting the house into livable condition. I planned the work and a group of retired men and women came faithfully every day to help with cleaning, painting, tearing out, stripping wallpaper (the birds had to go), and any other task I asked them to do. We worked side by side for days on end to get things cleaned and ready for us to move in. A bond was formed with those people that lasted until their deaths. We learned to work together, laugh together, eat together, and enjoy life together. I wouldn’t trade that time with them for anything.
We were treated royally by the elders and members while we lived in “their” house. They told us that the house was ours to live in. I could hang pictures and decorate as I pleased because it was “our” house while we lived there. Every year they planned a budget for the house, and since I didn’t need it for anything, they would do some project each year to update the house. They put on a new roof, installed new garage doors and openers, installed all new windows and put in a beautiful new front door. They took care of us and the house came to life again.
We actually purchased the house from the church and turned it into the house of my dreams. We were able to do some remodeling and turn it into a very comfortable house. We used it to house people who needed a place to stay and ate lots of meals with others around the dining room table.
Four of our grandchildren were born while we lived in that house, and each one of them has special memories of being there for holidays, birthdays, Cousins’ Camp, and a host of other things. They loved the big yard and all of the beautiful trees, especially the one that held their “horsey swing.”
Now you know why I was sad and shed tears as I watched it being torn down. It was the house we lived in for all those years. Our home lived there.
I’ve told you all of this to let you know that it is so important to know the difference between a house and a home. That wonderful house is gone, but our home isn’t. It moved with us to a smaller and more manageable house where someone else does all of the yard work. The house is gone, but the memories are here with us and will live on because of pictures and conversations that happen when we are all together.
Enjoy your house, but work hard to have a beautiful home with those you love. When the house is gone, your home will still be standing.
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AUTHOR: Donna Faughn
