It’s Friday night. We have finally have internet at the new house (yay!), we ordered pizza for dinner and Elena is sleeping downstairs.
(two things I’m still getting used to: 1) her sleeping while not being carried! and 2) having a downstairs! -I’ve never lived in a house with stairs before.)
We moved last week and have been slowly making our house into a home. There are still boxes and piles in the corners, the carpenter was working on the kitchen cabinets and the closets today, and we have temporarily hung old sheets up as curtains because we don’t have curtain rods yet. We had some heavy rains and consequently a leaking roof so there were three gentlemen working at the house all week. But I know, slowly and surely it will all get done.
I’ve heard it said that if a couple can survive a home remodel together, then you can survive anything. And I think I get why. Over the past 6 months there have been a thousand little decisions; decisions about colors and windows and doors and costs. There have been a few arguments, and lots of compromises and conversations that end with “ok, well you decide because that’s not a big deal for me.” I had more opinions about design and style, Gerber about function and quality. We had a few non-negotiables: he really wanted a tall wall in front for privacy and security. I wanted a bath-tub. We both won. I learned to think in meters and centimeters and he learned to let me print off my Pinterst-inspired pictures to show to the architect time and time again.
Many times in the middle of a conversation while pointing to a certain picture, I’d look over at Gerber, mi amor, how do you say “handles” in spanish?
You know the little things to open or close a drawer or door.
Let’s just say my Spanish vocabulary now includes words like azulejo, jaladores and repisas.
I think in a home remodel, or in a marriage for that matter, it’s easy to let the little things become the big things. And those little things can start to take over. I can so easily forget that they are really just little things. The color of the tiles. A little thing. The outlet that doesn’t work. A little thing. The dirt and dust on the floor. A little thing.
But making a home and a life together. That’s a big thing.
And building or remodeling a house so that it is a place where we can raise a family and invite others over. That’s a big thing.
And my hope and prayer is that our home will be a place where we makes messes and memories.
Where we share what we have and find rest and refuge during long days.
A place where we are reminded daily what a privilege it is to have a roof over our heads and running water from the faucets.
A place where the people who enter are more important than the things inside.
Last Sunday, our first morning in the new house, we woke up a family of three. I was wearing the same clothes from the day before because I couldn’t find my pajamas. Elena still wrapped in her Swaddle blanket, snuggled in between us, her eyes wide awake and cooing. And my sweet, hard working, husband curled up to her left, with his arm draped above his head. My heart was full with gratitude.
It feels so good to be home. In our house.
Even with the boxes and messes and unfinished projects.
We are home and I love it. And an’t wait for you to see it!
*I will try to post some pictures once we’re a bit more settled. The Monica in me comes out and I get excited, almost giddy, to organize the kitchen cabinets and drawers. I want to label things and get baskets and hang clothes by color in the closet. And I could spent hours looking at decorations and etsy prints that I want to get. Right now this one is on my wishlist. Cute, huh?