The dents and the dirt mean something…

Just this morning I was making my coffee in an otherwise quiet house as I prepared to go off to work. Typical Monday feeling of starting over and thinking about all I needed to get done today even before I was out of the house. As I added the creamer to my travel mug, I sloshed some onto the spot on the old countertop that is slightly warped. My mind jumped to how I looked forward to moving into a new house with marble countertops and a bigger kitchen in just a few years.

I was rushing to get out the door and tripped over a pair of my teenage daughter’s shoes. Irritated I kicked them aside as I made my way out to the car. I typically listen to Joel Osteen or The Message on XM radio to pray and focus my mind on the positive.

It’s funny how something that seems like such a trivial thought is like a seed in your mind that grows into something more. A lesson…a reminder really of what’s important. I was in one of those moods of discontent where nothing I listened to was what I wanted to hear. I pushed buttons on my preset stations until I landed on a country station playing one of my favorite songs – Mayberry. Simpler times. Slower paces. For some reason the words of that song brought me back to my thoughts at my coffee pot that morning and why I would not be content with what I already have.

Remember the teenage daughter I mentioned? She is the youngest of four children…3 girls and one boy ranging in age from 15 to 24. The warp on our kitchen counter? That’s from age and use of many many family dinners and drinks spilled on the counter. Our  1930s Colonial home has many scratches on its wood flooring from the pitter patter of growing feet that are now gone and have children of their own. The two dots of white paint on the fireplace are from where the then five-year-old daughter helped to repaint the living room.

The scars of this house are signs of the life that has been lived in it. Memories – some happy, some said- that I wouldn’t trade for anything in this world…okay, maybe a few of the teenage years, but who wouldn’t if they were being honest?

Although I won’t lie and say I don’t love looking at ideas of what a new home would look like when we decide to buy one, I realized how grateful I am that our family has had this home to grow in together. The comfort I feel when I return from traveling is like putting on a pair of your favorite pajamas and snuggling up in your favorite blanket. It’s home.

It’s home because that’s what we have made it, and we have been blessed to have it. I am thankful. I am content.

The dents and the dirt represent more than scars on an old house. They make up pieces of the story of our life.

God knows what buttons to push. I’m glad it led me to Rascal Flats this morning for this simple reminder to be happy where you are while you are working toward where you want to be.