The Memories of a House

Tomorrow, they start packing and Friday we move out. For about 6 1/2 years, one address has been the place we called home. It has been a wonderful house.

Still, it is made up of wood, concrete, vinyl siding, carpet, metal and other material “stuff.” Through the designs and work of people with different skills than I have, all this “stuff” becomes a beautiful and functional place to live. When looking for a place to live, we think about if our couch can go here or if all our pots and pans can fit in there; we consider if this room will work for an office or den or if that room will be the bedroom for one child or another. It is utilitarian.

…and then you live there awhile.

That back yard is where we put our child’s first swingset. It was cold, so her first ride on the swing was in a coat and gloves.

The oddly-laid-out living room has been the home of countless family devotionals, movie nights, and games.

The red dining room (that we liked at first, then thought we would change until we decided to move) has hosted scores of people and helped us connect with so many individuals. It is also where we put together puzzles and tried to teach manners.

In that light green room upstairs, I watched my daughter start to pick out her own clothes (sometimes), fix her own hair, and dress her dolls. I picked her up for our daddy dates at the bottom of those stairs.

In the blue room, I wrestled on the bed with my son, and watched him gain a love for reading about God’s world. I saw him make train tracks in the floor and caught him flexing in his mirror a time or two.

In another room, I continually saw my wife grow in her beauty and grace. From getting ready in the morning to reading Anne of Green Gables after I had turned off my lamp, she continually amazes me and fascinates me. We have cried so many tears over people we know who are hurting, and have laughed at so many inside jokes in this room.

It is just a house, but in those four walls, life happened. Too rapidly, at times, but it happened. Mistakes were made, triumphs were celebrated, tears were shed, and lots of laughs were shared. Meals were enjoyed, friends were entertained, and a few storms–literal and figurative–were weathered. We even had our mailbox destroyed once.

…oh, and the bare spot on the front yard? That’s just from kids being kids.

…and the front porch? I have read more books to my children out there than I can count.

…and our first day of homeschool? It was in the room that was listed as an “office.”

And on and on it goes.

It’s just a house, but memories are everywhere. It is hard to leave it behind.

Until I remember that the home isn’t made of the material stuff. It is the three special people who have helped make all the memories throughout the years. You see, we are leaving a house behind, but we are taking a home with us.

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Photo background credit: ME! The picture is from the day we moved into our house in Hermitage. Needless to say, all of us have changed (the kids have gotten bigger, I have lost some weight, and Leah has only gotten more beautiful).