Leaving Home to Go Home

house front door

Probably the last thing I should be doing right now is writing a blogpost, but I’m really supposed to still be asleep. Therefore, all is justified, right?

We leave today for our annual adventure. I am of course thrilled that what splinters my heart in separation from my husband will soon be healed with our reunion, but I have to admit it is quite hard for me to leave this year.

I have fallen in love with our home.

The rooms have only begun to transform into lovely spaces of comfort and I have so much more work I would like to be doing in them.

I will miss the phrases I’ve put up on the walls and the art that records the year of growth for Little Sprout’s artistic expression. I’ll miss my paint projects, photographs, and experiments with candles. I’ll miss my office and the battles I’ve been waging with the bird-feed-stealing raccoon. I’ll miss the blanket of leaves outside each window and the surprising colors of flowers and bushes that push through this time of year. I’ll miss the dappled sunlight that subtly bounces off leaves just outside my morning window and the thrumming of big rainstorms at night.

It’s these elements of home that are impossible to bring with me.

I will miss people as well, but they are allowed to accompany me in the form of texts, emails, Facetime, Facebook updates, etc. And I guess I could actually call them too…

The space of a home is the space of a home… and there is no way to digitize that.

Maybe I’m more reflective this year because the space of our home is about to transform so completely in the next two days. The five of us are preparing to snuggle in tightly in our bus accommodations for the two months of summer. I want to remain mindful and grateful for what will surely be a memorable opportunity.

A good friend of mine (who happens to be RV living with her family of five right now too) told me the two things I need to pack for the lifestyle are patience and a sense of humor. Duly noted.

I also want to pack away a little bit of home too, so I took pictures of my yard this morning so that I can have a digital bouquet when I need it. Appropriately, a deer ran across our cul de sac while I was taking photos.

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flowers from home

peony

deer in cul de sac IMG_1483[1]

home flowers

Undoubtedly there will be plenty of beauty and natural experiences as we camp this summer. I too, of course, intend to make our space as homey and comfortable as possible. I plan to catalog (blog) as we go.

I expect I’ll find home there too. It is in fact where my heart has been since April anyway.

Copyright 2015  Meagan Frank          Choosing to Grow

http://www.meaganfrank.com                                             

For All the Houses My Husband Built…

We’re finally building a Home.

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The five of us congregated to the family room and found sitting spaces on the floor, the futon and the fireplace. We had successfully moved the bulk of our furniture to storage and my husband was preparing for his return trip to Colorado.

Middle Sprout asked her dad, “What do you remember most about living here, dad? You do know it’s your last night here…ever.”

My husband sat quietly with her question and I could tell he was struggling for a meaningful response.

“Christmas,” he quietly reflected. “I loved Christmases here.”

What a surprising answer, I thought. We didn’t spend one single Christmas Eve in this house.

I’m sure he meant the time leading up to Christmas with the sledding, snowball fights, ice skating, tree decorating and the singing of Christmas carols. Christmas season is the time of year when our schedules slow and we are able to spend our most quality time together as a family. It’s traditionally been the only block of time in the year when my husband doesn’t work himself to the bone.

I’m glad those are the memories he cherishes.

I’m glad he didn’t pick the projects and renovations, or the times he was away from the house for work and hockey (which were numerous) or the hours he worked at his home office in order to provide for this family. I’ve come to appreciate his compulsion to construct, improve and provide.

For not one second of our marriage have I gone without provision and I am genuinely grateful for that. I do, however, look forward to relishing more time together in our new home.

We’ve lived in seven places and renovated five houses…it’s time for us to come home.

We are setting ourselves up for a radical lifestyle change, and there are parts of it that make me anxious. We have gotten very good at seeing the potential in a pre-loved home. He fixed, repaired and together we prepped all of those properties for eventual sale. We have gotten good at the business of house ownership.

I have no idea how we’ll be at the art of home-making. Picture1

I’ve just recently become comfortable with the frenetic, working energy of my husband. He loves by acts of service and I’ve taught myself to love him for it.

It takes time to get used to the rhythm of a person and we’ve just started to perfect the movement around and away from one another.

I hope we can find comfort in being still.

It will be a strange adventure for all of us to build a home from scratch. I’ve never put much color on our walls (or hung art, or bought rugs). I’ve only picked out the improvement that would make the most sense as an investment.

We’ll be busy during the build…of that I have no doubt. I’m simply preparing myself for when the dust finally settles.

Our house ownership mimics our marriage in many ways. We have noticed and worked to repair and improve the places that needed some love. I hope we are never comfortable sitting still long enough that the house simply erodes around us.

I’d like to say I know for sure it won’t…but we’ve never done this before, and we have no practice at this sort of home ownership.

I’d love to hear what it is about your house that makes it a home. (I’m looking for ideas and inspiration)

 

                                                       

Copyright 2013    Meagan Frank                           Choosing to Grow                                 www.meaganfrank.com