This past Friday Hila Fay turned two. Gone is my snuggling, cooing newborn and in her place is a walking, talking toddler with an insatiable curiosity and a knack for finding the one thing (in a room of a hundred) that “Mom-Mom” doesn’t want her to have.
Yesterday we had a small party with friends and family. Now, it should come as no surprise that I do not have a fancy home. I use mason jars to decorate whenever possible, my hardwood floors are needing to be redone in an awful kinda way and we’re not even gonna talk about my half painted shutters. In an attempt to compensate for my lack of frilliness I have spent the last week scrubbing, rearranging and stressing. Each time I thought that I might have things “just right” I pictured some of my guests homes in my minds eye and began the shuffling again.
By Friday night I had managed to frazzle myself like a shook up soda bottle and didn’t think sleep would ever come. Finally I reckon God took pity on me cuz my thoughts began to calm and a deep truth settle into my veins. My house may not ever be featured in Good Housekeeping, but my home has all the qualities I ever dreamt up as a kid. In my home my husband and I are deeply in love. We pray before our meals and love our God. A little mud doesn’t cause a panic attack and people’s feelings are more important than a broken dish. In my house at least once a week we laugh so hard we lose our breath, cry and clutch at our stomachs. We do things as a family and are most often all found in the same room giggling and picking on each other.
I have no name brand furniture, in fact most everything I own was once someone else’s leftovers. But you know what? I no longer care. God has blessed me with immeasurable wealth, one that can never be replaced and I would never trade. I now hold my head high realizing that while I may not have the most contemporary house, I have a home overflowing with love…and mason jars.