Once Upon a Time

Our little family recently took a big step–a move to a newer, bigger house.  It was a bit of an adjustment for all of us, especially for Ellington.  The night of the fourth of July wasn’t the best idea–hence the booming, sizzling, and crackling of fireworks in the neighborhood.  (She talks about fireworks every night before going to bed now.)

But I wanted to take a moment to reflect on the good and bad memories on sweet Arlington Drive, our first house.

January.  Wet, cold, and chilling to the bone that year.  We move in the house and as evening falls, we click on the heater. Hmmm…what is that burning smell?  Stop.  Open up the closet door.  Hear gas, light the pilot light.  BOOM!  A fire ball bursts forth in the hallway, almost reaching the other wall.  It was one of those fire balls that pushes out like a cloud coming forth and then collapses upon itself and sucks back in.  Of course Dad thought we were exaggerating the experience, but after having his eyebrows slightly singed, he believed us.

After days of space heaters and hovering over an iceburg of a toilet seat, our new heater arrived.  Then the microwave broke.  Then the plumbing backed up–the first of numerous times!  We learned how to give these mishaps to the Lord.  (See below.)  As only God can, the buyer of our house was the sister to the plumber that fixed our pipes on a regular basis.

We also learned about the responsibilities of the a home and the costs.  Blinds on windows, shelves in closets, and grass–oh wait–we never got that to grow.  We contemplated every dollar spent and learned how to be good stewards of our money.  We had to wait to buy a television.  Wait to buy new towels.  We eventually added a patio and a back door.

It was at this new house we finished and started new schooling.  We began our careers and discussed it all taking long evening walks together.

Our lives changed when we experienced loss.  I can still remember the salty mixture of tears and mucus as I cried and cried in our little bedroom.  My heart broke all over again after seeing my pregnancy books lying  on the bedside table when we got home from the hospital.

Then God blessed us with another little girl!  It was in that same bedroom I faced and  conquered fears of loss.  After Elle was born, I was again familiar with the salty tears, but this time it was not because of a broken heart but of broken strength and endurance.  Whew!  She was a tough baby.

Elle learned how to eat solid food, walk, talk, and SLEEP in that house.  Then Emery came along.  What a sweet, unexpected gift.  She is our double portion.  She is the cherry on top of our already sweet ice cream.
I learned how difficult it was (and is) to parent and to parent two–including a terrible (but wonderful) two-year-old.

No, I haven’t read the entire Bible within a year or memorized my alphabet verses.  But I have gotten to know the Lord.  And that is what living is all about!