#6 What I Believe - I Believe in Home

What I Believe  - I Believe in Home

(View from our back window)

We're settling into our new home. Thanks for asking how it's going. Next week we'll celebrate seven months since we signed the final papers, transferred money and took possession of a newborn dream on a postage stamp plot. In many ways it feels like I've lived within these walls forever. At other times I enter and feel like I've never stepped inside before. Both sensations are a little odd, but explainable. Feeling at home partly comes because I'm surrounded by familiar objects, some that have traveled from one home to the next over several moves. Feeling like everything is unknown partly comes from my inner core that knows each day is new, and how I live has never been experienced before.

 (Foyer of my new home)

This home is not my final destination. I know that. I feel it deep within me in a place that contains a greater volume of knowledge and understanding than words can ever express. I also know it intellectually and can explain it in half a dozen concise sentences, so here goes:

• Ultimately, we're all visitors here on earth. 
• We aren't meant to live here forever.
• Some people say we're here to be tested.
• I say we're here on a work assignment.
• The job responsibility is uniquely tailored to each of us.
• Eventually we'll all be transferred to another home.

There you go. That sums it up for me. As for that "another home" part, we have a lot of hints, clues and perceptions of what it may be like, but the pictures our minds create isn't complete, and it's not meant to be, I've decided. Some people claim there isn't any other home--not one before this one, and none after this one, but I don't buy into that brief and accidental chance life-view. I believe in home. I believe in this one, a former one that had meaning and purpose even though I don't know much about it, and a I believe in a future home that will have meaning and purpose, although I don't know much about it either. That means the inner space--the now part of living in a home where I write blogs, wash dishes, plan vacations and toss and turn at night because I can't fall asleep--the earth existence part of home--also has meaning and purpose, even though I don't understand fully what that is, either.

I also believe that some of us, and probably all of us at some times in our lives, feel like the "work assignment" part that I call "this earth home" is a little vague on what we're here to do, exactly. Parts of it can make us say, "Huh? Can anyone clearly explain to me what I'm supposed to accomplish in this__________. (You fill in the blank. At times I've jotted in that blank: dark bog, or  mud pit, or dreary wasteland. I once heard it called a spook alley. But this middle home isn't always dark, unpleasant, unknown, difficult or frustrating, even though it has its share of those qualities, and some much worse.

This middle home also has spectacular mountains with amazing vistas to enjoy as we make our way to the summit, and we're constantly surrounded by incredible wonders to feast our eyes on, hear, or enhance our intellects and enliven our thoughts. When we're struggling against a current, rowing upstream, banging our head on a wall, or fighting our way through a densely tangled jungle, we have a tendency to forget we had to work hard to enjoy the wonderful things we experienced in the past, and the same is true for the present and future. We forget really living in this work environment requires effort, sacrifice, sweat and tears and we're often filled with discouragement, a view of our own inabilities and weaknesses, and we're accosted with repeated temptations to give up before we reach any place significant or accomplish something as meaningful as we truly desire. 

I've driven past homes under construction that have been abandoned and left to decay. You probably have too. We sometimes shake our heads and wonder: Did the owner run out of funds, energy, or enthusiasm? Did they die before the home was finished? Did they move out of state? Was the work so shoddy the building inspector shut the job down? I've wandered through homes abandoned over time as the railroad overshadowed the stage coach and river ferry and they were no longer needed. The physical structures that housed people with hopes and dreams slipped into decay. But the people--they continued on somewhere and in some way. They moved to new locations in this middle home, and eventually relocated to their future home. Relics of their past home are left behind like silent echoes.

When you walk through the front door of my current Happy Little Home #6 you'll immediately be greeted with two signs: 

Welcome

and

Find JOY in your journey

To me they aren't just cute little home decor items I snatched up when I discovered them in a cute boutique, but messages with sweet whispers that encourage me to never stop making my home environment as welcoming, loving and nourishing as possible. I'm here for an indefinite period of time, and these sayings offer encouragement to live for the present in this home as I prepare for my future home.

I'm sure you don't know this about me, but I hate (HATE!!!) phrases that tout: "Live for the moment!" or "Live in the present!" or "Be in the moment!" Not because I'm so wrapped up in the future that this exact moment becomes meaningless, but because...

Because I believe, very strongly believe, in planning, preparing and developing a future that make this exact moment very powerful. I believe in now, and I believe in tomorrow..

• Tomorrow I'll use my credit card.
• Tomorrow I'll eat breakfast, lunch and dinner.
• Tomorrow I'll get dressed.
• Tomorrow I'll drive my car.
• Tomorrow I'll make another credit card, house and utility payment.
• Tomorrow I'll celebrate something wonderful.
• Tomorrow I'll read, laugh, sing, converse.
• Tomorrow I'll be kind and serve someone.
• Tomorrow I'll interact with people I love. And with strangers.
• Tomorrow I'll need something; I'll want something.

So...

• Today I'll consider my economical limits and possibilities and not undermine tomorrow.
• Today I'll open my fridge and oven and use my salt shaker because I need to enjoy today and have strength for tomorrow.
• Today I'll grocery shop, do laundry, and choose my lipstick shade because today matters and I'll need tomorrow what I've done today. (Yes, even the lipstick. It makes me smile today and will do the same tomorrow).
• Today I'll fill my gas tank, run errands, buy stamps and buy a gift because tomorrow I may have a crisis or other things could stand in my way.
• Today I'll be generous, loving, gracious and kind; I'll sacrifice and serve,  because I want to, and I feel that I need the hope and joy these give others and myself.
• Today I'll be grateful, glad and joyful because no matter how rough moments of today get, this is not the end of the world, or life, or hope, or all that's good, and I want that assurance tomorrow.
• Today I'll plan and prepare for tomorrow  because even though I close my eyes and go to sleep, there will be a tomorrow either here, or there.

I do all this because today isn't lived fully without tomorrow in sight and the past hanging around close by for reference on how to do something well, or not do it terribly.

What has all this talk about today and tomorrow got to do with my home? My personal physical Happy Little House?

My home is where I live today--the starting gate and landing pad separating one 24-hour segment from the next. My home consists of walls and ceilings, a garage and a backyard (with a farm and mountain view, currently). It's where I rest and rise, where I clean and organize, where I mend and repair such things as exhaustion and broken appliances. It's where I build stronger relationships. Where I design armor strong enough to protect me through tomorrow.

Home is sticks and stones, really. Mine has stucco and an asphalt shingle roof, and really, those details are terribly unimportant because home is much, much more than its design, surfaces, and furnishings. It is where life is lived, therefore it is an essential incubator, a feathered nest, a school room, a playground, a laboratory, a medical clinic, and a theater where life is rehearsed and acted out. My current home--our physical homes--is the sealant that binds past, present and future, making life 3-D and meaningful. 

For me, my home is a snugly blanket because that's the mood and meaning I've chosen for it. Wrapped up in that imagery, home can't get much more cozy, warm and pleasant than that! It also has the incredible ability to morph into many other things as needed--a safe haven, a bed-and-breakfast retreat, a rehab facility, and more. It's kind of magical at times, when it's not being its ordinary ordinariness where we watch TV and vacuum up crumbs. When I've marketed my homes they've transformed into spa retreats and dream destination vacation lands. Because I love all these home styles and elements and many more, I try to incorporate as much of them as possible for our daily living, while not losing sight of my supreme objective of maintaining a warm, snugly, inviting, security blanket feeling.

My past homes are reflected within my current home--the furnishings and my love of simplicity. There are also hints of my future home--my another home someday home. 

My home alludes to who I am currently, the possible terrains I've traversed in the past, and the probable ones I may explore in the future. Life is interwoven with the past and future, and if it weren't, life would slowly parade around us in boring and dismal hues. I've taken a zillion and ten photos of my present home, but really, the ones I've chosen to post today metaphorically offer some of my feelings about HOME best.

The air compressor is sitting in the living room because construction is underway in our new-build home. Life should never be lived expecting things to be finished, perfect, or completed because that's completely unrealistic. (Okay, I give you permission to repeat that to yourself a hundred times until it soaks into your heart, soul, and memory. Go ahead, say it out loud! Most of us need to know that more often than we think we do. I said it several days in a row because I needed it repeated over and over again during our project.) Often there are obstacles in the way that we need to watch out for and skirt around so we aren't tripped up. And the noise!?! This home (earth life) is full of it, along with confusion and disarray at unexpected moments. But like this air compressor suggests, there is always some positive changes we can make to enhance or improve our present life and help us prepare for our desired future outcome. We can live and thrive under less than perfect circumstances. We can endure inconveniences. We can often make changes. If you catch that, you'll understand I'm talking about more than making physical changes. I'm including attitudes, beliefs, moods, emotions and a hundred different kinds of changes that influence our lives now and later.

After we moved into our current home I could have left the closet in the master bedroom alone, but no, the dead space (a whole 43-inches of it above the top shelf) seemed like an impractical waste. We measured the benefits of more storage, then measured the space. It was no small investment purchasing the materials, and no small effort placing them where we wanted them above our heads. Soon the air compressor took up temporary residence in our living room and the project was underway. This home and the next one require measuring our lives--our actions, thoughts, intents, sacrifices, follow through, desires, and more. It takes effort to determine what steps to take and inconveniences we'll need to endure to get what we permanently want in the end.

Getting to the end of our closet project included an unexpected jolt. My car wasn't pulled out of the garage (the wood shop for this project) and dust coated my shiny wash and wax job. Yikes! Look closer and you'll see through the sawdust and find the reflection of sawhorses parked in the next stall. I panicked at first, imagining chunks of wood flying from the saw and dinging the paint. I grabbed my keys and moved the car. Life is like that. There are surprises, shocks, alterations to make, panics to get over, and we have to take action at times when we thought we'd easily sail through something we started. Oh, sometimes there are disasters too, but fortunately making our closet a better place in our home didn't include any.

I love this photo. The back of my husband's shirt says "Customer Care." He really is the nicest guy you'll ever meet and takes good care of me. Wounded knee and all, he climbed the ladder multiple times installing additional shelves. Having the home we desire is work, and sometimes it's painful. When I consider my future home, after this "work assignment" ends, I imagine what I did--what sacrifices I made, how dedicated I was to righteousness in my heart, what I was willing to put up with or improve, and my determination to not quite, and other attitudes and beliefs will be considered. There is no easy way to have good, to capture good, to develop good, or create good, or better, or best. Good, better and best take time and effort, sometimes more than we think we can muster. But it's amazing what we can do when we don't give up, or cave in to discouragement, or throw in the towel, or quit rowing, or doubt the worth of what we want when compared to the demands on our commitement and sacrifices. I painted the finished shelves and began putting our closet back together after my husband dusted off his hands and carried away the last tool, and that was no walk in the park either. I wanted to sit on the carpet and look up and cry--and that is no exaggeration--then grab my magic wand and accomplish the final part with one little flick. Wouldn't we all want a home created that way? Flick, and there it is, sparkling and perfect! But, I didn't sit on the floor or cry, and somehow I missed out on the magic wand gifting occasion, so I couldn't instantly cure the raw wood look or arrange the piles of clutter around my knees. (You know, I've begun thinking no one got one of those amazing wands, except maybe Mrs. Weasley.) Anyway, life isn't a flick of a wand. Having the home we want--now and later--requires a truckload of initiative to combine with our best efforts.

Remember that used pine sofa table I refinished almost exactly one year ago to help me stage my last home for sale? I found the perfect place for it in my new home. Sadly, it didn't weather trailer rides and storage well. There are a few dings in the paint, a couple deep gouges, and several black smudges. You know, there is no such thing as a perfect home in this life, and if a home is momentarily perfect, it's guaranteed that eventually there will be a repair job or total overhaul coming up later. This lucky table is moving up on my To-Do List.

I believe in home. Every aspect of it. In every location.

My home is valuable to me. I treasure it. I know it carries a tremendous amount of power over me and my family, and as a result, I'm careful with how I create it. When I look around my home as I prepare to decorate, rearrange furnishings, add or delete items, update, or do other things, I keep in mind one supreme question: What is the purpose of my home? From there I ask myself descending questions such as: What do I want my home to feel like? What effect will the furnishings have on us? How will the decor enhance or detract from what we want? What will our lifestyle be like, and how will that affect us?  

I know my home could get zapped by lightning and burn down, fall into a crack created by an earthquake and sink to the earths core, or be washed away in a flood. I don't live in tornado country, but a few have been sighted here from time to time, so there is the possibility that one might drop from the sky and grab my home and churn it into matchsticks before tossing it away in the next county. I'd sit down and cry over any of those things--guaranteed. But since this life is more than a physical home, I'd get back up and rebuild.

 

What is the purpose of your home? How do you view your physical space? What is the unseen atmosphere in your home? What do you do to help your home enhance your life and reach the potential you have for it? How much elbow grease, thought and creativity do you devote to your home and your lifestyle within it? Do you love your home? What vision do you have for your home--not physically, but feeling-wise?