I'm home for Thanksgiving. I love coming home. There is something so comfortable to me about my house and my family. I realize not everyone feels this way about going home. I used to think everyone did, but within the last few years I've come to understand that not everyone feels so welcome and comfortable at home. My parents have really created a safe house for me. Although I'm almost 40 (one day) I still feel pretty transient in my young professional life. This is still coming home for me.
The only time my parents defied this safe zone was last year. I have a younger sister who still lives at home and she wanted my old bedroom. We have seven different bedrooms in our house. All my siblings are married except my younger sister and I. She could have picked ANY ROOM IN THE HOUSE. She wanted mine. I found out when I went home for a weekend and ran up to my room to dump my belongings. When I opened the door I was shocked to find my room filled with posters and pink and pillows and piles (piles everywhere). I ran downstairs and my mother started apologizing and claiming her own innocence. She never would have let it happen, it was all my dad and my sister. This did feel like a violation. They didn't even set me up a room elsewhere. They just dumped all my stuff in a closet. I haven't bothered setting it up either. Maybe it's because I realize I don't really live there anymore. Perhaps I shouldn't have a room that's mine there. (that's just silly) It's funny to me because it's not a big deal, but it still bothers me. Every time I come home now I can pick from any other room in the house. I want my old one. I still do. And I want all my stuff put back.
But there are a lot of things I still love: the carpet, the fruit bowls, my dad's fake fire that's been glowing in the fire place for 3 years running (of which he is incredibly proud), the trees that surround my house, the hours we are forced to spend removing the leaves, the food--all the food--from the grand slams to the smorgasbord to disappointing soup nights that have now become appreciated, Mormors pleas for more ice cream, the little dog getting yelled at in German, the sound of the dishwasher at night when we're supposed to be asleep, the candles in the window, my dad asking questions he already knows the answers to, singing time, clean up time, movie time,
prayer time.
I think that is one of the greatest things about coming home. I am really thankful for my parents faith and example. They have such a great love of God. I rely on them for a lot of strength and support. I can be really stubborn, there have been many times that I hear my dad call everyone to pray and I roll my eyes and secretly hope that it will be a short one. Even though I may react this way, I also notice that I love it. I love the spirit that's there. This is what is so great about coming home. It like a filter. When I come through the door only the most important things come with me. So much is left outside. When I leave I may pick it right back up again, but for a little while I could relax, rest, trust my parents and trust God.
8 comments:
Linda I love your home too! I love all the things you mentioned that you love and I also love listening to your dad 'comment' on the other drivers on the road! I love your family! Gosh, I can't believe you lost your room! But, I could swear Amanda was in your room when we came in March...or maybe I'm just nuts! I feel for you and don't blame you for feeling bad--Chris was kind of bummed when all his fancy posters got taken down in his room. I can't believe your stuff is in a closet, that is pretty harsh! I think you should pick a new room and do it up REALLY fancy! You can use some of chris' posters!
That is beautiful that you have that relationship with your family. :)
And seven(!) bedrooms--that's quite a house.
Aw, Linda! I KNOW!!
I loved that. Like... I don't even know what to say but of course, I know exactly what you mean and you said it perfectly.
Seriously though. That is hilarious about your room!! Oh my gosh, so funny! I mean, just the way you wrote it. Well, remember Amanda slowly moved up the ranks. She started in the furthest room... then she took mine... and then yours. And when it happened, believe it or not, I actually wondered how you would feel about it because it was always YOUR room--the random decor and everything. Something about that bed... anyway.
I agree that our home is so special, the bare walls and everything. As I have become a mother I have thought to myself many times what it was in my upbringing to help me (and my siblings)have such a solid base, testimny, great relationship with parents, etc... and it keeps coming back to prayer. I rememeber so many times being SO late for school and my ride was in the drive way and dad MAKING us pray around their bed! I was already getting up before it ended.
Our parents are incredible people.
Love you Linda.
One more thought-- I think it was a way for Amanda to feel close to her sisters! :)
And the carpet... so funny!
there is something about going home. my parents are selling the house i grew up in. i am a little sad but the new house they have will still feel like home because that's where my family is.
this reminds me of garden state:
Andrew Largeman: You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden, even though you have some place where you can put your stuff, that idea of home is gone.
Sam: I still feel at home in my house.
Andrew Largeman: You'll see when you move out, it just sort of happens one day and it's just gone. And you can never get it back. It's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. I mean it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.
Close to 40?! Of course I note the important things :)
I loved your description of your parents' home, it sounds warm, loving and wonderful.
Love,
Faith
Ricky are you still alive?? We need to talk soon. How was your Christmas?
Post a Comment