10 Years Here

{I started this post the first week of 2024… Normal life was interrupted by death and I never thought of this post again until I came across it looking for something else last week.  So a year-ish later, here it is, commemorating a decade in this home.}

{January 2024}. It’s the third day of morning temps in the teens, “feeling like” single digits.  It’s early morning, like I like it and it’s warm by the fire, like I like it.   Only a few steps to the kitchen to refill my coffee is too far for the best of fires to warm so the flames in the fireplace beckon me back. It’s a wood burning fireplace in a world of ceramic logs which flame at the flip of a switch.  Real wood is messy.  It has bark and splinters.  There are ashes to scoop and debris to sweep.  There is always a fragrant hint of smoke- even in July.  But that’s the way of a wood burning fireplace. The one I sit beside this morning is, by design, the exact match to the one in our last home… same stone and brick, laid in the same pattern…same hearth that Brighton and I love to sit on— even though we always stand up with some slivers of wood shaving attached to us.  And we wouldn’t change a thing.  

Sometimes when I am going through pictures— the endless task of organizing these memories we all make— I find many with the fireplace in the background and I have to look  closely at the surroundings to figure out in which home the picture was captured— Is that the Park Arbor house?  Or the Peach Willow one?  The ages of the children is usually the telltale but as time grew nearer to the move, it’s harder to distinguish without taking in the rest of the clues.   The chairs are the same but covered with a new fabric.  The pictures are the same just hung in different places.  The little box on the end table is the same just repurposed somewhere else. Our family pet is the same but no longer the prancing puppy but a sleeping senior.  He’s a decade older.  But the hearth… it’s the same. This fireplace—we’ve warmed by it 10 years here.  

We’ve been on Peach Willow for ten years.  Julia was almost 12 and Brighton had just turned 10.  Oh, the parenting of the last decade. From a 12 year old on the brink of the teenage era to a 22 year old young woman.  From a 10 year old boy on the brink of everything to a 21 year old young man….can we take a moment?  I need a moment. 

Adolescence with its abundance of hormone changes, middle school, tears, school sports, being the first parents to navigate this level of social media, high school, outfit discussions, more tears, homecoming, drivers licenses, countless hours of car time with kids turning into ZERO car time with kids, meetings with teachers… with principals, Canwick, school changes, try outs, wins, losses, being asked, not being asked, grades really mattering, grades not mattering at all, waiting up, questions about God, questions about boxed macaroni, Life360, school changes, new friends, old friends, hurting friends, being hurt by friends, even more tears, Covid, college choices, dropping them off at college…..and driving away……. And this could go on for a while.  

Peach Willow will always be the backdrop of what I call the “blind curve” of parenting. You just can’t know what is ahead. Control is an illusion of sorts and if by 12 and 10 you still are operating out of that illusion, reality sets in hard and fast and you question all parenting strategies up to that point. {I wouldn't know anything about that.}  Remembering and trusting that God draws hearts to Himself and that MY flesh WILL fail, but HE is the strength of my heart {and theirs} and my portion {and theirs} forever will definitely be a marker for me in this last decade.   Oh, to parent with open hands and an open, teachable heart with an unwavering trust in Christ and that He is at work.  That He will ALWAYS be at work.  

On a more light-hearted note, Jeff and I moved into our 5th decade in this house.  We hadn’t been in our 40’s long when we moved here… and honestly, 50 really snuck up on us.  {See paragraph above.}. Wow.  50!  People say, it’s just a number but there are times when I KNOW and FEEL I’ve been on this planet each one of the 19,000 plus days!  I have readers in EVERY room.  I appreciate a well lit space.  Hopping up from sitting “criss cross apple sauce” feels a little different and on some days it looks a little different.  Our supplement game is strong—as are our exercise routines.  I set up a table to wrap Christmas presents instead of executing from the den floor.  At night, we crawl in bed earlier and earlier—and we couldn’t be happier about it.  Also at night, I’ve gone from “give me all the blankets” to “don’t you dare turn the heat on”.   The other day, Jeff made the statement that we were officially old because we both have machines by our bed- one for snoring and one for cooling.  Ugh.  Then I thought, BOTH of them are really for me--  so I can get sleep.  Jeff… still making sacrifices for me.  That’s definitely NOT new in this decade.  

I could never have known what these 10 years would bring.  Life doesn’t always look the way any of us planned it.  Amidst all the time with family and friends, the laughter, the accomplishments, the games, the meals, the celebrations, the normal every Tuesday night we've experienced and witnessed in these familiar surroundings, there are parts I’d never want to live again. Regarding those particular moments, I can hold deep sadness and thoughtful gratitude at the same time.  Losing parents, friends, dreams, opportunities, connections hold rich treasures for me and yes, “life lessons” we tend not to learn in any other way.  Death in general is a teacher like no other.  And in it all, He keeps us.  

If I could choose, I’d do 10 more years right here, adding logs and stoking fires of real wood on my messy hearth.  I don’t mind at all.  But as long as He keeps us, I guess it doesn’t matter where.   So today as I enjoy sitting by the warmth in front of this familiar fireplace, I am content knowing the only familiar thing these next 10 years may hold could be Him.   I don’t mind that at all either. 

{The memories are abundant and strong. So much gratitude for the life and love inside these walls and the people we get to share it with.  With even just a handful of memories represented, my heart is full.}

Here's to ten more.