What Makes A House A Home

I remember when we looked at the house that we now call home.
We had five children and knew we needed to move into something a bit larger.
I knew the day I changed the sheets on the boys’ bunk beds.
I leaned down to put the fitted sheet on the bottom bed and knocked books off the bookshelf.

It was time.
It was hard to leave the house we had built.
It was hard to leave the front porch that we added years later.
It was a little easier knowing we would still be in the same town, only miles away.

I remember when the children came to see the house that would be their new home.
They ran upstairs claiming bedrooms, which had already been decided.
I heard them running down the upstairs hallway, so excited about this new adventure.
I definitely heard them running in the hallway because the hallway had hardwood floors.

My ten-year-old daughter came to the bridge railing that overlooked the family room and foyer.
Mom, the hallway has floors! She said with great excitement.
Now if we’re sick and throw up, we won’t get it on the rugs!
She ran back to the room that she would share with her sister.

All I could do was laugh.
What a selling point!
Can you imagine the realtor’s description?
Upstairs hallway has hard wood floors, which makes clean up easier when children are sick.

That memory came to mind the other day when I was mopping the floors.
I came downstairs and heard the creak of the floorboards in the kitchen.
I know exactly where the floors will creak.
I should know that after being in this house for twenty-three years.

I thought of my sons’ names, which are carved in the windowsill of their room.
I thought of my youngest daughter’s name, which she carved in her windowsill as well.
I never knew they did that at the time.
I happened to find it one day when the sun was coming in at just the right angle.

It was one of those wistful days when memories came flooding back.
Did you ever stop and listen to your house?
It is filled with the voices that lived there and the laughter that filled the air.
It is filled with the sounds of tears, and giggles, and doors that slammed on occasion.

I know the picture on the wall that has a few nail holes underneath.
I know what was hanging there before and what is hanging there now.
No one else knows.
I know the way you have to turn the lock two times on one of the porch doors.

I can see the rooms as they are now and as they once were.
I know all the little things that may never get into a realtor’s description.
But they mean the world to me.
I know the tiny scratches on the hardwood floors that were made by trucks zooming about.

I remember my husband talked about refinishing the floors someday.
I actually said that there was no need to do that; the floors are just fine.
And they are.
This house has a lot of life and life leaves its marks.

My granddaughter knows where the step stool is kept.
She wants it out of the laundry room closet so she can stand up on it.
Whenever I play the playlist I made for her, she wants to be as close to the music as possible.
She knows where the little flashlight is in the kitchen drawer.

My husband teases that she knows where more things are in this house than he does.
That might be true.
If anything is out of place or not where it was before, she will notice.
It matters to her.

It matters to me, too.
Our family history is here.
Every corner, every nook and cranny, tells our story.
It is our story that is still being told.

Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me.  My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. (John 14: 1-3)

Jesus is preparing a place for us who believe.
I am certain that squeaky floors and extra holes in the wall will not be a problem.
Our names will be carved there, in the Father’s house.
Our names will not be carved on wood, rather they will be carved on the palm of Jesus’ hands.

The place Jesus is preparing is unique for us.
We have a place there, waiting for us.
It will be Home.
It will be filled with joy, and laughter, and praise.

There will be no more tears there.
There will be no more sickness there.
There will be no more death.
There, in that Place, we will see Him face to face.

No description of that Home comes even close to describing it.
That is perfectly fine.
Because out eternal Home will be perfect.
Jesus will be there.