Recently I had dinner at a friend’s house, and I have to be honest, I love it there. I told her that I can’t wait until I can adult like her. Beautiful surrounds her at every turn. 

I was sharing with one of my daughters while driving to the grocery store how my friend’s house is like the proverbial House Beautiful. And she said, “I’m so sorry Mama.” Immediately, I said, “Sweetie, she has house beautiful. We have home beautiful, and I love our home.”

The house…not so much…but the home…absolutely. 

For too long it’s been a source of stress and frustration. It has been difficult to see the beauty of it all. I’m beginning to…to see the gift of love that has filled these strong walls. I decided to write a poem (please know, I am not a poet at all…but the words are from my heart).

My beautiful home. 

It isn’t what I had planned….Not what I hoped for. 

It’s full of drips and cracks, dust and dog hair. 

It has more broken than working, more repairs than running. 

Bumpy floors, wobbly tiles. 

Drawers that don’t open. Doors without handles. 

Dishes piled and leaning. 

Clothes, towels, blankets…everywhere but where they should be.

Life lived fully.

Every room captive to living. 

Every space filled with more than things. 

Completely overflowing with love. 

Welcome to the chaos of life lived well. 

Come in to the comfort of joy in the messiness of life. 

Join us for a taste of family with all it’s jumble of emotions. 

Look at the method of our madness and see grace lavishly lived. 

No perfection found in floors or walls, in couches or tables. 

Only wonkiness and scratches, pulls and tears. 

But hearts are perfectly loved here because Jesus is welcome here. 

All imperfections welcomed, all those who bear scratches and scars,

Those who know heartbreak and lost hopes, 

Ready for dreams redefined. 

Join our rag-tag crew; our truly loved tribe.

This is not a house beautiful kind of house; no pictures of decor taken here. 

This is a home beautiful; picture yourself here.

Lean against a soft pillow, welcomed and accepted. 

Sit and stay awhile, wrapped in a cozy blanket of peace.

Be loved and hopeful.

In my blessed beautiful home.

It was big for me to realize that my home is a blessing, because it seems that since becoming a single parent, I’ve been besieged by all manner of crazy maintenance and repair issues. I can hardly believe how many there have been in the past several years. I don’t care what people say about it being natural for homeowners and car owners to have repairs…I far surpass the norm. I promise you. And I truly don’t understand what God’s plan is in it. It baffles me.

Today, an electrician came for the second time and spent 8.5 hours at my home added to the 4.5 he was already here yesterday. All the jokes I have made about burning this house down, well it appears that actually might have happened had I not gotten my wires rewired and goodness knows what else. 

I had to stop for a minute to take a breath because sometimes I’m overwhelmed by the amount of things that are not what I so long for in my life. 

And yet, I know I am blessed. 

I have people over all the time who comment on how welcoming and comforting my home is yet so often it is such a source of stress for me. I remember when the kitchen faucet started leaking. I almost sat down on the wonky floor and leaned on the broken dishwasher to cry. It was so small and I know that I can fix it myself. I’ve learned a lot in the past several years, but I don’t really want to…I don’t want to fix anything else in my life. Not one blasted thing. 

It is shocking how such a small thing can derail me sometimes. Yesterday it was the pile of dishes by the sink. Tonight, it is the dryer refusing to work. I know the dishes will be done and the dryer will work again (I’ve fixed it before). It’s just I have things to do other than be a handyman…handywoman

As much as I love my Home Beautiful, I would love House Beautiful too.

It’s okay though. It truly is. 

I’ve realized that anyone can have a house. I want a home. 

Bingo. That’s what I have. I have a home. And I’m so thankful.

I look at my house right now and I love the memories in it. I love some of it. But I’m weary of the struggle of it. I know there must be a reason for that…for all the things that go wrong. I’m hard pressed to figure it out except I’m kind of silly for buying an older house with good bones and not much else good. 

My home is not beautifully put together, but then again neither am I. And I’m beloved, chosen, precious, and beautiful because of Jesus. He loves me just as I am. And I think He loves my home too. He is welcome here every day. He lives in the chaos with us. I’m so grateful that He pours love and grace on us in this wreck of a house. And I’m so grateful that He relentlessly loves this sometimes wreck of a woman.