If These Walls Could Talk
Home is Where the Heart Is
We purchased our home just over three years ago. After searching, we found the perfect fit for our growing family in a home originally built in the 1950s. Only one family had lived in it previously. Their three children grew up within its walls and that comforting feeling of a family home was still present, even though it had been a while since it had been occupied. As word of our new home spread to our friends and family, they told us stories about all the fun times they had in our home with the original owners. The home was already full of many memories, and we were eager to create more with our own family and friends.
The original colors and style of the home appeared seemingly untouched, so we began the process of a total remodel. Walls were knocked down, closets were moved, mauve tile was busted out of bathrooms, floors and carpet were replaced and paint was stripped. You name it; we did it. I am so thankful my husband’s career is in development and construction. His expertise allowed him to contract the entire project and keep us on track to move in just months after the remodel began. For the most part, we are finished. However, like many things in life, I am aware our home will likely be a never-ending project. Honestly, it probably should be. It deserves to be.
If you think about it, homes are like our hearts. We guard them and allow those we love inside them. If something breaks, we repair it. Regular maintenance is required. Sometimes we come across a problem we are not equipped to fix, so we seek a third party or professional help. Our hearts and our relationships, just like our homes, deserve our attention and should be carefully nurtured. Like Maren Morris sings, “the house don’t fall when the bones are good.”
My husband and I celebrated twelve years of marriage this past November. We waited six years before starting a family and we are now in the “thick of it” with our plates seemingly always full. Often, we only pass each other in the hallway as we take care of our children or go to our careers outside the home. “I’m taking her to tennis lessons, so you are in charge of The Brothers.” “I have a meeting out-of-town today, so you will have to do dinner and bath without me tonight.” “If you will take care of the dishes, I will change out the laundry.” We are constantly shuffling things around and before we know it, the day is over, and we are exhausted. I will not pretend to be an expert in marriage, nor claim to have a perfect one. After all, we are just two sinners who vowed to love each other until death do us part. There are times throughout the shuffling where one of us recognizes something that needs to be fixed. We will have passed each other too many times without checking in, and suddenly there is a disconnect. As if there is a leak behind a wall, it is important to recognize the problem. What likely comes next is tearing down that wall, finding and fixing the leak and rebuilding the wall. It is not always easy, but you cannot ignore the small leak. If you do, you will wind up with a bigger mess to clean up later.
Our home originally had three bedrooms right in a row, and you could not access the middle bedroom without walking through one of the outer two. We tore down the walls and turned the three smaller bedrooms into two larger ones. After all, that middle bedroom would really have been wasted space since we were just planning for two children. (Ha! Hello, Brothers). The decision to go from three bedrooms to two was a decision of quality over quantity, and that is a phrase I think we can apply to all of our relationships. I keep a smaller number of more intentional, intimate relationships than I did in my 20s. Back then, I wanted to attend every function and fill my weekend schedule. I certainly do not think it is wrong to keep busy and stay social; those seasons have just changed for me.
We invite those we love into our homes. We host them in our safest place, where our children’s artwork hangs, and our family heirlooms are kept. We laugh with our friends on the same couch we grieved the loss of a loved one. My friends have seen my junk drawer and you know what? They did not run away because that is not the stuff that matters, friends. What matters are the relationships and the memories we make over a glass of wine and a piece of pizza while we sit on the floor and love on each other’s kids. It could also be an honest, hard conversation over a cup of coffee while still in pajamas. Treasure those people and take the time to check in with them for problems. If you find one, fix it quickly. If you cannot fix it, ask for help. It is worth it. It’s just good for our souls, y’all.
The memories we have created over the last three years will be hard ones to beat. Our daughter learned how to ride her new bicycle down our long hallway when it rained on her fourth birthday. She was also the first one to know I was pregnant while we waited all day for her daddy to come home so we could tell him. After a five-week pregnancy bedrest and a two-week NICU stay, this is where we brought The Brothers home. Each day is full of chaos, but it is happy chaos. Countless dance parties have happened in our home, and I know there are countless more to come. We have plans for a circle drive when our children become drivers and have brainstormed about where we could host an outdoor wedding in case they choose to get married at home. There will be celebrations and there will be hard times, no doubt, but because of the home we have created and the people who fill it, I am excited for whatever God has planned. 
