L i t t l e R i v e r M a m a : a well-worn home

spring has finally arrived in ohio...i think. at least, for now. you just never know here. and one thing i didn't know i missed during that long winter of ours was the birds. the last few mornings i've awoke to their songs. all different kinds. all singing together. and as the snow melted from our last blast of winter, they've been diligently working on building their nests. and i guess most start to feel that kind of pull when the warmer air arrives. the sense to nest. to feather our homes. naturally, i have all my profound revelations around 11 o'clock while lying in the bed trying to sleep. regardless, i finally did a little spring fluffing around the house this week (and thought it'd be fun to share some pics below). also, i did not purchase anything new. i LOVE to shop my own home. go room to room & switch up items. i probably should have been focusing my efforts on that not-even-close-to-being-ready "nursery," alas, i did not. i'm avoiding it-let's be honest. let's all pray that this momma bird gets the very strong urge to nest in THAT room...and quick. our soon-to-be little nest of 6 won't wait.

it's nothing new to know that i've been craving simplicity in our home, wardrobes, accessories-you name it-while also focusing more on filling our home with pieces that have meaning, purpose & life to them. i talked about it more in this post. i've always loved decorating & arranging a room (just ask my mom). i'd OFTEN rearrange my bedroom at home & do it at all hours of the day (or night). whenever the mood would strike. it always left me with such renewed feeling of self. a new lease of life. a new day to conquer. change would breathe new life into me.

in my 29 years i have called 6 places home. and they each hold keen memories of who i was at that point in time. with my first 2 homes i was really too young to remember much from either. the very first home was shared with my great grandmother. it was the house my grandma grew up in. it ended in a tragic house fire. one in which my dad jumped back in to grab diapers & formulas for me. one in which only my redheaded yarn doll was saved.

but it was my 3rd home that gave me my years of growing up. it was a quaint house that had humble beginnings and lots of yard to roam. my dad's hands are all over that house. his skill. his craftsmanship. he did so much to transform that house into a home for our growing family (my brother soon followed me then 2 more sisters over the years). and it's something i've always held dear about that place. they still live their today...which is something more & more rare. today, we live in a society of perpetual movement. a time & place that we're always looking to better. "what's the next step up?" i don't know if there's anything particularly wrong with it, but we have definitely morphed into a culture of replace instead of repair. we are told we need to constantly refresh & renew versus accepting the lived-in & loved. even homes themselves have become more disposable than ever.

my 4th home was more accurately a basement. we were newlyweds with a new baby (i really need to tell that story one day) and living with the in-laws. my husband loves to tell our oldest (who shares a room with little sis) that she can complain about her sleeping conditions when she has to live in one room with another adult + baby. anyway, those were some rough growing years, but we made it work.

my 5th home was our first "on our own" home--even if it was rented from hubs' grandpa. it counted. it had 2 bedrooms upstairs & a full finished basement (gosh, i miss that basement space). it had a fireplace in the living room & a chandelier in the dining room. it had hardwood floors & a river view you would die for. that view helped me overlook the pink tub & toilet found in the main bathroom. i remember thinking we hit it big in that little place. we brought home 2 more babies there.

my 6th home is where we are currently living & have lived for 5 whole years now (God bless the neighbors still living around us). it's the first home that is all ours. and even though we got away from the pink tub & toilet, this place gave us pink bathroom tile. maybe it's my lot in life to grow to love pink...i did go through a pink phase sophomore year in high school. but this place now...this place is our home. it's loud & alive. and i can tell you without a shadow of doubt that it's exactly the place God planned for us (i should tell that story one day too). that's something to think about: when God was weaving the story of our lives, he prepared THIS place for US.

it's been 3 years now, since i left my job working in an admissions office at a local university to stay home with our youngest 2 (our oldest was already in school). and i think spending the majority of my time at home has really made me look at our place differently...or at least more closely. it's where i spend the majority of my time. it's my place of work, my place of relaxation & my place of solitude. i want it to welcome me, but i also need it to work for me--not against me.

i know it's hard to really embrace this one...but our homes are meant to be lived in. they aren't museums. i know some desire order, symmetry & cleanliness above all else...and while that's okay, i hope we know it's not everything. with each new little person (and each new pet) we add to our family, we have had to add a new level of acceptance to our living. my husband & i are what i would consider good housekeepers. he often does a lot of the surface work (vacuuming & dusting) & i keep the place organized (drawers, shelves, closets & such). we try to take care of what we've been given while still realizing some things will come with life. we try to keep a balance.

balance. it's something we have to constantly work at. it doesn't come naturally. and doesn't happen organically. we have to balance what we expect from our kids (as far as taking care of what God has provided for us) with what will inevitably occur through days, months & years of growing in one's home. and it's super hard, i'll admit. especially when i notice the new lengthwise scratch on the record player where a little boy was racing cars or the new stain on the couch where a little girl dropped a freshly-cut strawberry. and while we often react quickly in anger & disappointment, i want to remember that our house is growing up with us. just as our kids learn to ride a bike, fall & maybe bruise their knee, our home reflects its years with us with many of its own bumps & bruises.

i think of my wooden cutting board that has started to warp & wonder if it's time to toss it aside...and then i think of the many meals it's had a hand in preparing. i notice the strings coming loose in the couch & fear it won't last long...and then i think of how comfy it's become over time as hubs & i share it in the evenings--broken in just right. i see the paint chipping...well, from everything...and think of how many times the kids have sat around that scratched up coffee table to watch a movie together, how many times the kids have ran through those paint-chipped hallways playing tag, or how many times we've celebrated birthdays around that marker stained kitchen table. each chip, scratch or stain is a sign that someone lives here. someone finds security here. someone cries here. someone laughs here. someone is loved here.

instead of looking at our homes as places never good enough--never clean enough, never big enough, never new enough--let's embrace the imperfections. instead of discarding pieces that may seem less than perfect, let's appreciate them for the memories they hold. maybe we can actually honor the passing of time rather than always looking at our homes askew.

there is beauty in the well-worn.