Home.

Remember me?  I won't even make excuses or promises...nice to see you again!

We moved!!  And it was a PROCESS!!  We started looking for a home in September of 2013.  We looked at 5 homes, made offers on 3, was in contract on one and nothing came of any of them.  We had highs, we had lows, we had moments of 'Forget it, renting is awesome!'.  Then we found home.  It's always fun to see in hindsight how God is preparing you for something.  I *still* cannot see it in real time.  I am impatient and grumpy and too fast by nature.  But in hindsight, it becomes crystal clear.

I may someday tell you about our home.  I may post some transformations and DIY/marriage growth projects.  Not today...today, here are my reflections on 'home'.

Home is where the heart is.

Pssh.

Home is wherever I am with you.

Bleh.

Now, before you translate that with a Jim Gaffigan voice to hear me say, "Dan and the kids mean nothing to her, she just needs a cozy dwelling." or "She's so materialistic that possessions mean more to her than people and relationships."  Please pause.  Breathe.  If the five of us lived together in a van down by the river, I'd have all I ever needed.  But, to me, it would not be home.

All of my thirty-four years when I have said the word 'home' I have been referring to my parents house in Laverne, America.  Home.

Where it smells like home.

Where I have memories of the layers of paint colors on the wall and the carpets on the floor.

Where my body knows, to the millisecond, how long I have before the garage screen door will assault the back of my heel.

Where I had sleep overs with my life long friends.

Where I suffered the terrible throws of heart break.

Where I know which spots in the hall creak under foot.

Where I know how long it takes the hot water to get hot...and how long it will stay hot.

Where I learned all my best athletic skills in the driveway or yard (ha!).

Where my brother and I learned to crawl into the attic to plug the cable back in that summer my parents had had enough of our TV watching.

Where Darin and I had our CHiPs police headquarters and parked our 'cycles. (He ALWAYS got to be Ponch...and I was John.)

Where I prayed with my best, best girls before walking down the aisle.

Where I walked down the 'aisle'.

These are the things that, to me, make a structure a home.  I know that this sentiment is not universal...those that moved multiple times during childhood or those without happy memories of home.  But, for me, this is it.

And that's what we I was searching for.  These things weren't as important to Dan.  He wanted a good investment, a close drive to work, a safe neighborhood....and if we needed/wanted to move in three years, cool.  Not me.  I hope for our kids to have memories of this place like I do of my childhood home.  So, you see, the only requirement for all these things to be possible for ANY structure to be a home...is time.  It's not the size, or the yard, or the crown molding.  It's weathering life with your people under the same roof...for many, many years.

God willing, we have found our home.

Bonus random pic...not at our house...because, well, i MEAN.