To my Small House: Thank You for the Big Memories

Suggestion: Listen to “North” by Sleeping At Last while reading.

When I was 25-years-old I purchased my first home. I closed on my birthday, a beautiful day in June. It had 980-some-square feet of livable space, and it felt huge: two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a big backyard for my fur-baby, Lily. It was just us, then.

After a long, busy day of moving in boxes, I lay on my living room floor and cried. The tears were a combination of joy and fear. I felt free and fearful at the same time. I wondered about my future here. Would I live alone for a long time? Will I ever have a family? How am I going to do this alone? I was happy to have my own place. I no longer was in an apartment with shared walls, questionable neighbors, and a long trek to the garage. No, now I was home, but it still felt heavy.

During my first six months living in the house, I couldn’t afford the internet. Thus, my love for books really took off. My weekends were quiet and so to pass the time, I strung up my hammock, laid between my trees in the backyard, and read books. I also couldn’t afford air conditioning, so the breeze felt amazing.

One day, I was outside raking, and a butterfly landed on me. I thought of the word metamorphosis: the process of transformation from an immature form to an adult form. This home represented transformation and hope.

For a long time, the house meant a long list of projects to do. All I wanted to do was hang art around my house, and the plaster walls made it nearly impossible. I felt incompetent. I felt alone. I poured over Pinterest for ideas, finding faults in my home. For a long time, I didn’t invite friends or family over because it “wasn’t ready.” Although it suited my needs, I missed hosting and let the imperfections of my home hold me back.

After I moved in, I reconnected with a friend (I’ll spoil the ending, he is now my husband). I’d known Jordan since I was 17, but only recently had we deepened our friendship. He had moved away from the area, so we exchanged texts and calls. Our friendship grew, and eventually, we began dating. He grew up farming and was very capable of fixing things. After a while, he started to offer his help with my home. One weekend, he offered to switch my old copper pipes to PVC piping. I thought it sounded like a nice gesture, but as I sat on my basement steps and watched him take out pipes and plumbing, a little bit of panic set in. Do I trust him enough not to really mess this up? In the end, it was just fine, but sort of a laughable moment of trust.

A few years later we got married and he officially moved in. Now I had “boy stuff” around the house. I had someone to come home to. The house didn’t feel so big anymore, but it didn’t quite feel too small either. We spent our evenings watching our favorite shows, cooking or camping in the backyard, and tackling our long list of projects.

Well, first comes love, then comes marriage… and well, before we knew it, we were bringing a baby home. Quickly, one bathroom wasn’t enough. In the weeks leading up to our daughter’s birth, Jordan was frantically working to finish a half bathroom addition. Baby supplies and toys filled the house. What once was a room I cried in, longing to know my future, was now a place I nursed and held our new baby girl. What once was a “getting ready room”, just for me, was now a nursery where I would rock our baby girl to sleep. The days felt long and short at the same time. Then, our baby girl took her first steps. Laughed for the first time in the backyard, while I was throwing a ball for Lily. We went for family walks around the block in the evenings. Me, Lily, Jordan, and our daughter, Olivia.

Then, our family grew even more and when Olivia was 18-months-old, we welcomed our second daughter, Everly. It was a cold fall night and we drove home from the hospital. I sniffled as we drove up the driveway. How is it I have been blessed to bring not one, but two babies home to this house? I recall the days of swinging in the hammock, just wondering what was next, and now here I was bringing my second baby home.

There were times I used to hate this house. I cursed it for being “too small.” Jordan has cursed it for being “one step forward, two steps back”, as he’d find issues in the house as he was already trying to fix an existing issue. Over time though, we found peace. It became ours. We put our mark on it and took care of what was broken. We dreamt up our future together and then watched it unfold.

When I moved in, I knew I wouldn’t stay forever. I didn’t really know what my timeline was. As a family of 4 now, we were starting to sense it was time to say goodbye. Although we’ve felt the growing pains of a small home, and feel ready to leave, it’s a bittersweet goodbye.

And so now, it is time to say goodbye. This house was my place to heal, grow and become the woman I am now. And when I stand before my new home, wondering what’s next, I’ll remember that girl in the hammock. I couldn’t have imagined the immense growth and blessings that were in store for me then. And it’s better than anything I could’ve imagined.

And behind all of it, I really was never alone. I had Jesus. He was there with me, swinging in the trees and he’s here with me now. His love and grace in my life are sufficient, even when the material things surrounding me are insufficient. He is always enough. He is home.