Monday, July 3, 2017

There's No Place Like Home

Well, we’re in.  Still unpacking boxes and deciding what goes where, but we’re in.  And, man, does it feel weird.  After 22 years in the same house, you know every creak and crack in the place.  You can practically move around with your eyes closed and still get where you’re going.  In the new place, I better keep my eyes open or I’ll run into walls and bump into stuff.  It’s going to take some time to get my bearings.

We loved our last home.  (Well, I had a love/hate relationship with it when I had to take care of the pool.)  We lived in that place for more than a third of our lives and more than half of our marriage.  We (that means Dayna) kept it in great.  It pays to have a wife who watches a lot of HGTV.  She always had some idea to make it better.

But a home is not so much about the floors and the roof and the curb appeal.  A home is about what goes on inside.  It’s about the memories.  And do we ever have memories associated with that place.  That’s the house where we celebrated high school and college graduations, the house where we celebrated the weddings of our children.  That’s the only house our seven grandkids know as Papa and Grammy’s house.  That’s the house where we spent 22 Christmases.  That’s the house where we prayed a lot of prayers, cried a lot of tears, and laughed more times than we can count.  That’s the house where our teenage kids brought their friends.  That’s the house where we watched a lot of Razorback and Cowboys and Orioles games.  That’s the house where we loved one cat and two dogs.  That’s the house where we spent five days without power during the great post-Christmas ice storm of 2000.  That’s the house where we always tried to keep Jesus at the center.  It’s been a good house.  It’s been our house.  I think it was Miranda Lambert who sang a song about “the house that built me.”  Well, this house didn’t build us, but our lives were shaped in numerous ways during our years there.

On Father’s Day weekend our whole family was together.  The kids wanted to say good-bye to the house.  We talked about some of our favorite memories in that house over the years.  The kids took a last look at their teenage rooms.  Everybody enjoyed the pool one more time.  It was more emotional than I thought it would be.

But now it’s time to move on, time to get a little better arranged space to accommodate our family of 13 when they are home.  It’s time to quit messing with a swimming pool loved by my wife, my kids, and my grandkids but not loved so much by me.  I don’t know how long we’ll live here.  I doubt it will be anywhere near 22 years.  In 22 years I’ll be 82 and my wife will be 80.  For all I know I’ll be dead.  We’ll make some memories in this new house, but it won’t be like the house in which you raise your kids.  My daughter summed it up pretty well before she left our house for the last time: “Every time I’ve come home since I left for college in 2000, I’ve always felt like I was coming to my house.  Now, I’ll feel like I’m coming to my parents’ house.”

And that’s where we are now: in her parents’ house.  Dayna is excited to make this house a home.  And she’ll get it done for sure.  I’m still a little depressed about the change.  But I’ll be okay.  Whether our address is Meadowmere Terrace or Blue Bell Court, as long as Dayna and Jesus are here it will be home.  That’s been good enough for almost 40 years.  It will be good enough till Jesus calls one of us to the home that’s really home, the home from which we will never move again.   

13 comments:

  1. Congratulations on the new move you two... Know that you will create new memories there until Jesus comes or you go to Him. Phil. 1:3

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, Charles. Looking forward to my forever home.

      Delete
  2. Enjoyed reading this blog. I can feel the adjustment tone as you have moved from one very familiar space called home, to a new adventure in an all-new space to make your own. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this very large transition after 22 years. God's best to you and Dayna in your new home!

    ReplyDelete
  3. It's a beautiful house and you all will soon make it into a beloved home as you make new and cherished memories with your children and grands! Leaving the other behind is bittersweet, but memories are great and new challenges are good! It's a new season, and it sounds like a welcome one! God bless as you make the adjustment!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Congratulations on your home. I understand the memory of what you call home but after dad passed 22yrs ago and my mother last yr i wasnt able to say bye to my bedroom or the home i lived at 20 yrs. Now my next place i will call home is in heaven.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Congratulations on your home. I understand the memory of what you call home but after dad passed 22yrs ago and my mother last yr i wasnt able to say bye to my bedroom or the home i lived at 20 yrs. Now my next place i will call home is in heaven.

    ReplyDelete
  6. John,

    Such a similar situation that Sharon and I were in back in 2012. We'd lived in the same house in Granbury for 22 years before we pulled up stakes and moved back home to Hot Springs.

    I like what your daughter said: “Every time I’ve come home since I left for college in 2000, I’ve always felt like I was coming to my house." She knows the difference between "home" and "house". The house changes, "home" doesn't.

    Congrats on your new "forever" home!

    Mike

    ReplyDelete
  7. Hey, John, I never look at Facebook but Terri was cutting my hair and mentioned your new house in passing and I was flabbergasted. And then I said, "grandchildren"! So, today, I tried to remember how to navigate Facebook and here it is. Nice work. Hard to play the poor preacher role, but you were as tired of that as you were of the pool, probably. Thank goodness you have Dayna. Look forward to visiting you there (and bringing several friends.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. We would love to have you and your friends anytime. Thanks, George.

      Delete
  8. Just what I needed to read as I prepare to leave my home of almost 17 years. It’s harder than I imagined. It’s not the house, it’s the memories.

    ReplyDelete