A friend of mine mentioned recently that she is considering buying a house. It makes me think about my decision to buy my house- almost 5 years ago now (dang!!). There are a lot of great things about owning your own house, but its also a lot of work and a lot of time investment. It occurs to me that although I don’t regret doing it myself, I don’t necessarily recommend it to everyone…
As a single woman, it can feel overwhelming sometimes. When the refrigerator breaks, you have to replace it. When your old washer finally gives (or just starts spewing water all over the place), you have to go get a new one. When something breaks, you have to be willing to spend your saturday trying to figure out how to repair it. You have to cut the grass, fertilize, trim the bushes, keep up on all the yard stuff, on top of the house maintenance. I think my neighbor Scott thinks I am insane for being a single woman who owns a house and dogs (he hates dogs) and he likes to comment on things, as if I’m an idiot and don’t know that the tree is dying or the grass is long. Thank you Scott. And there are times I do wonder what on earth I’m doing thinking I’m old enough to have my own house- and trying to take care of all of it on my own. God willing, someday I’d like to share that with someone else. Someday I’d like to escape the plumbing projects- “Honey, I think the toilet is running and needs to be fixed.” and be able to have my husband spend the 2 hours running fixing it while I put my feet up and drink a margarita 😉 (that’s how it works with married people right?) Sometimes I think Scott is right, I am probably crazy for taking it all on as a single woman. And there are days I am a little envious of my apartment dwelling friends- they spend Saturdays at the park, at the zoo, hanging out, etc while I’m home working my butt off just to try to keep up with stuff at home.
And yet, I have no regrets and I am so thankful for my home, with its many challenges and joys. It was the right time in my life to buy a house, take on a new challenge, move on to that level of responsibility. And it has become home sweet home. I have never felt so at home anywhere else- not growing up in my parents house, not my apartment or rental house in college. This place, my house, complete with lists of things I need to do and things i haven’t gotten to, it is soooo home to me. Its my comfortable place, my safe zone, my place to escape the rest of life. Home is a place I can invite people over to share in its warmth- from nieces and nephews, to my teens, to friends and family. I think a person’s home is somehow a reflection of them, a glimpse into who they are. My home is definitely that- its part of me. Certainly there are some things i hope aren’t a reflection of me- lets face it, i never would have picked that ugly linoleum in the kitchen or the mudbrown carpet on the stairs- and I wish the chaos in the garage wasn’t a reflection of me- although i know it is. And yet, with all its imperfections, it is definitely home. I miss my home when I’m gone too long and there is nothing quite so great as coming home!!
And my home is a reminder to me to ponder what heaven will be like. If I can love a physical place so much, a humble, imperfect place here on earth (with projects up the wazoo), how much more is heaven going to be Home, in every sense of the word!! I can’t wait!!