home

With summer in full swing, my days with an 8 month old seem to fill up much more quickly than I ever expected. I love this season of warm days, green grass, and "sunsets about 9." (I've always loved that Brad Paisley lyric.) And while much of my days are spent thinking about what new food to have Jack try or where we should go for a walk or how to make him laugh, lately my mind has been on the thought of "home."

Today my parents are moving out of the house I grew up in and away from my hometown. Although we moved around a couple of times while I was growing up, this place, six miles east of Marshall on four acres, has been home for the last 16 years.

This is where...
I went through the awkward teenage years
I learned to mow the lawn with a riding lawn mower
I grew to love living in the country, even if it meant riding my bike the 6 miles into town when Mom and Dad "wouldn't" give me a ride
I grew to love living in a small town
countless sleepovers and movie nights happened in the basement
we learned to say, "It'd be such a nice day if it wasn't so windy"
we could gauge how bad a blizzard was on whether or not we could see the mailbox
we frosted dozens of sugar cookies every Christmas
we repainted the downstairs bathroom 5 times
we took piano lessons
5-year-old Conner puked all over the stairs
the most dreaded chore was picking up sticks in the spring after the snow was gone
I was sick with a high fever for 6 days in Jr. High
we started the tradition of the "7th Grade Party"
my friends threw me a surprise party for my 21st birthday
I first heard about Lost Timber Bible Camp, where I met Tim
all our graduation parties were held in the garage
Dad read devotions after dinner
my sister and I got ready for prom
Tim proposed to me
we announced we were having a baby
where life has happened for 16 years

Ultimately, my parents moving is a good thing and has been a long time coming. Dad has been commuting 2 hours one-way for 5 long years. Mom has had her fair share of "snow emergencies" while Dad wasn't home. This needs to happen. And how it all happened is sort of a long story, but one that you look back on and can so clearly see God working through all the ups and downs. There truly is much to be thankful for, but it doesn't mean it's easy. Jack and I took one last trip home in June so I could clean out my closet and the storage tubs under my bed, which of course held countless treasures and memories. What's funny is that I was so preoccupied with taking care of Jack and going through my old stuff, that when I left I didn't really even think about it being my last time home until a ways down the road. But maybe it's better that way.

What's sort of crazy is that my parents are actually moving back to the city where we lived for 8 years during my early childhood. So while most of my kindergarten friends aren't there any more, it's unique in that my parents already have connections - some of their closest friends live just 5 minutes down the road. It's the polar opposite of the time we moved to Phoenix, AZ; the people, the landscape, the roads, and the restaurants are familiar, which will hopefully make it feel a little more like home a little faster.

You always hear people talk about how "home is wherever you make it" or "home isn't a house, it's the people," which I think is true to some extent, but I can't help but wonder what it will feel like to go "home" to a house I've never been to on a street that's not gravel. Or to walk down a Main Street that's unfamiliar with parallel parked cars I don't recognize. And as with any life change, there will come a new normal, but the acreage east of Marshall will always hold much of my heart and many of my memories.