One year ago we moved out of our house. The house we built when we were newlywed youngsters and lived in for 40 years. The house where our kids grew up. And some other people’s kids. And a whole bunch of foster kids. The house that at least 45 people have called home. The house with the biggest kitchen in the county where we served meals for dozens of people at a time. The house where our kids brought their friends home – from school, from church, from college. Then their friends brought friends who brought more friends…
It was home. It was our home, but it was also a place to share and a place to be healed. Not only the house, but the property with its forts and log cabins and climbing trees and campfires, has been affectionately dubbed Rivendell by some who made their way here when they desperately “needed to get underground.”
…
RIVENDELL
“That house was a perfect house,
whether you like food or sleep or storytelling or singing,
or just sitting and thinking,
or a pleasant mixture of them all.
Merely to be there was a cure
for weariness, fear and sadness.”
-J.R.R. Tolkien
…
When we started talking about moving out, we wondered how we would cope with the loss. Surely we could survive somewhere else, but would we be able to thrive? It wasn’t hard to imagine some of the things we would miss the most - certainly the solitude and beauty of this place as well as the secret doors and passageways and other personal touches built into the very structure of the house and carved into the site plan of the property. There were the evergreen trees we had planted – thousands of them – and the apple trees, and the flowering redbud trees. There was my husband’s rose garden and the waterfall he built. There was the sun garden on the hill built for me with love by my gardener sister after my cancer diagnosis. There were lilac bushes and a magnolia that were birthday gifts and there were the trails - miles and miles of trails. What a lot of beauty to leave behind.
And don't forget the winter scenes. Oh, how stunning and spectacular - and oh, how cold. Now THERE is something we didn’t mind leaving behind.
We talked about what we would need for a “sense of home” somewhere else. We thought of certain things that could maybe help us feel at home. Sure enough, throughout this first year away from that house, we’ve discovered lots of things that have helped – from my cherished wind chimes to a handmade cabinet, to a unique piece of pottery, to a certain cute little basket, to a favorite plate and matching coffee mug, to a comfy old shirt or cozy warm blanket. We have a couple small bookshelves filled with our top titles and authors and we have our favorite music downloaded on our computers. We also have the priceless stack of photo album yearbooks chock full of memories. We have hearts full of gratitude - AND we have each other.
…
It was a momentous move – and I am happy to report that we have found a sense of home – first in the teeny, tiny little bunkhouse and the old worn-out travel trailer where we camped the first few months, then at The Cove in a small fishing village on a tropical island, and now in the quaint little historical log cabin at the front of the Christmas tree farm.
We have noticed some things about ourselves and our surroundings. We have observed that beauty is one thing that helps us feel content – beauty in nature, obviously, as well as in art and music, but also in people, in culture, in relationships. Our lives have been enriched with so much beauty.
One year later, on this anniversary, I feel much more confident – because I now know that there are lots of places out there, just waiting for us – places where we can find a sense of home. There are beautiful people all over the place. And there are flowers and trees. Yep, there are palm trees and pine trees. And there are flowering redbud trees. Sure enough, there is a redbud tree just outside my window, this window by my writing spot in this new place, this place where I now feel at home. Yes, redbud trees will help.
We feel at home here - for the moment – but we look forward to more new places as soon as we can get out there. I know there are flowers and trees of all kinds - even redbud and magnolia - other places in the world. We look forward to finding other places of beauty, to meeting more beautiful people and fascinating cultures. Most of all we look forward to being together – for as long as possible – because our companionship is the biggest and best reason for feeling at home.
This first year since the big move has been amazingly wonderful.
I can only imagine the beauty waiting for us in the next year.
...and the next.
