The Blessing of Home

M and I just returned from a little getaway to celebrate our first wedding anniversary. (Weren't we just standing at the altar all giddy faced?! P.S. I haven't forgotten that I owe y'all a post on the ceremony. Perhaps by our 10-year I'll get that one up for ya.) We debated where to spend our little vacay (and if we were going anywhere at all), but with the promise of seclusion, romance, and some cold weather, we bundled up and headed to Redstone, Colorado. I almost hesitate to tell y'all how wonderful it was because I don't want to compete for lodging on future stays. (It's a town of about 100 people in the off-season, so my concern is legit, y'all.) But...it was amazing. If you can go to there, do so.

I will share more details on our trip soon (see previous note on epic post delay and laugh, it's OK), but for now, I have to express how blessed I feel to have a home to which I am excited to return. I was just discussing this (via email) with my Mamaw (that's Southern for grandmother), and it really is a gift to be whisked away to a gorgeous locale (see delicately-snow-draped cottage below...silly, right?), to relish the coziness of a place so far from the city that cell service was out of the question and stars appeared to be numbered in the gazillions, yet to still look forward to returning to our humble abode. Our home isn't perfect, and it isn't the most fancy, high-end place we've ever laid eyes on, but it's ours. The walls have heard many laughs, seen plenty of tears (both happy and sad), and absorbed hundreds of prayers in the short year that we've been there. It's home.

Gamekeeper's Cottage

I haven't lived near our childhood home for nearly a decade, and when it sold just prior to my parents' divorce (or maybe after, I can't recall the exact details), my brother and I found ourselves in an unexpected position. If I'm honest, I felt homeless. There were plenty of places where I could still visit and feel that warmth of a safe, secure environment (like Mamaw's house, where hugs and salty snacks were always abundant), but it wasn't my home. It wasn't until I walked in the doors of what is now our nest, our little bungalow in a transitional neighborhood, that I felt my heart swell and my burdens lift. Granted, peace and assurance follow me wherever I go because the Lord is ALWAYS with me. That is not housed in a building or anything temporal in nature. And thank God for that!



Our home, looking lovely in white

But to know where your head will rest, to embrace yet sometimes whine about all the little idiosyncrasies that only you would notice (why, oh why, are there holes drilled into the bottom of the pantry door...were we going for a swiss cheese vibe, people?), to corral memories and love between four walls...that is truly a gem that shines all the more brightly when you step back and get a good look at it.