Tate spent most of the day watching the track-hoes and front loaders from our windows spreading and moving and hauling.
Our dirt pile diminished and diminished little by little.
Our yard is now flat---but not quite smooth, considering the hundreds (maybe thousands?) of rocks and dirt clods. Our task now is to rake and remove and level and build a retaining wall with our multiplicity of rocks spanning the width of our yard. Stay tuned.
This song describes my life so perfectly. Like to a tee. But just like the girl in this song, after spending years dreaming of paradise, I have learned that paradise is right here, wherever I am, even if I'm lying underneath the stormy skies--knowing that the sun will set and rise on a brand new day.
I don't remember when this lesson really started to sink in, but when I first heard this song early this year I knew that it completely summarized the principle I had been learning to live--that of enjoying the moment, finding the jewel in each day, and learning to be happy and content in every circumstance. It's the epitome of thanksliving and believing that the Lord's graces and tender mercies are all around. This song sums up what I have been becoming the last three years with yearly themes.
Looking back, I feel that I've left a part of my heart in every "paradise" I've lived in. The little red brick house that always appeared to me to have a face was where I grew up. It will always hold the nostalgia and sweet memories of innocent childhood. It was the place I laughed, loved, and grew my testimony. It represents that idyllic sunshiney phase of life to which I so often wish to return....even just for a day. I can't even drive by this house anymore or my heart hurts. It's so sad for me to see other cars parked in the driveway, the playhouse and cherry trees gone, the beautiful log fences that my dad so lovingly built, in ruins. And I've looked at those "window eyes" and felt like the home is calling out to me to come back and live there again. I can't think about it too much without getting too sad, so I choose to preserve it in my memory as the happy place it once was and not the place it now is.
Then there was Portugal, the place where more than half my heart still resides, and always will. That home, that epic seems so much like a dream to me nearly 10 years later. I was a princess in that home, or so it felt. And while the challenges there were more daunting than the years before, it was a very sacred and hallowed time for me. It was there that I found out who I really was and who I was going to strive to become. (And though I didn't know it at the time, it was there that I met the missionary who would one day become my sweetheart for time and all eternity.) Was Portugal Paradise? Truly. There's no better word to describe it.
My little apartment in Colonial House while attending BYU-Idaho was fleeting and trying. I only owned one half of a tiny bedroom, but it was a haven to me where I studied, wrote the feelings of my heart, and talked for endless hours to my family in Portugal and Patrick who was attending school 400 miles away. I know there is a piece of my heart still there.
The next house was our first together as husband and wife. University Courtyard #602 was more like a hallway, perhaps a "closet under the stairs." But it was beautiful and the perfect place to begin our married lives together. It was in that little one bedroom apartment that we learned how to rely on the Lord and each other for just about everything. It was only a sojourn for 9 months, but still long enough to plant a part of my heart there as well.
Hill's Cottage, tucked away in a quiet place was so idyllic. We brought both Easton and Tate home from the hospital to this beloved sanctuary. It was more than 100 years old, but the 3 bedroom home was paradise to us, even with the purple holey carpet and sinking toilet. I loved that home as much as I've ever loved a home. It felt like it was ours, especially since we spent two years in its shelter. Whenever my mind travels back to this house, all I feel is peace and tranquility. It was a heaven on earth. It was there that we taught Easton to walk and where I spent so many hours and weeks and months learning how to become a mother. It was all so new and adventurous and challenging. It was one of the sweetest times in my memory. There we invited family home evening groups over from the singles ward where Patrick was serving, to have a lesson, game, and refreshments nearly every Monday. I loved that home and was so sad to leave. The only happy part about leaving was knowing we were moving on to graduate school and another adventure.
Our next abode, a basement apartment was smaller than the cottage before, but warm and cozy. We hunkered down in there for 3 years with intermittent moves to do internships. It was there we grew closer than ever before to my sweet grandparents, Gram and Pop. We were at their house nearly every day, playing, laughing, and making cherished memories. It was there I was taught by a good friend how to paint and distress furniture, bargain shop, and decorate my home in an authentic way that I love. It was there that I learned how to love and play with and nurture two growing, crazy, darling boys. It was there Patrick completed his academic schooling for physical therapy school, and it was there that we felt it was time for Maylie to join us. The ward we were part of was so good to us and we still miss them so dearly. I think a part of our heart will always be there.
Our last abode before our final stop was in our farmhouse cottage. It fulfilled my lifelong dream to live in an old, renovated farmhouse. It was our first home that we had all to ourselves, even though we were still renting. The boys played and slept in the loft, rode their bikes in the spacious yard, and we enjoyed the roomy bathroom that was bigger than some of our previous bedrooms. The area we lived in was picturesque and serene. Farmlands everywhere, with our home bordering the foothills of the high, tall mountains. There were times when I thought this would be our resting place, but somehow the Lord led us on. And even though we spent a year here, it seemed like only a few months. The time flew and Maylie turned 1 just yesterday and we're leaving tomorrow. And as I close this chapter, I feel a big part of my heart will always reside in this sweet little town. For it was here that I overcame dark days of dreariness, enjoy each and every moment, let truths sink deeply into my heart, and was given a special gift from Heavenly Father--the desire to play with and be with my sweet little ones for all their waking hours. I look back and can't believe how far I've come. How far we've all come, really. Life has soared on wings of eagles and no matter how hard I wish it to slow, it only increases velocity. And now, it's time to close this chapter and welcome the one ahead. Ironically, as a side note, as I walked through our new home yesterday afternoon to check the progress, "Paradise" was playing on the radio...
And so with this reflection on where we've come, I realize that each of our homes have been a unique paradise in their own way. Paradise is a state of the heart, not a geographical location. It is thisI have learned.
And just like the others before it, this, this could be paradise.
...And now for the clips that inspired this post, "Paradise" by Coldplay and "Peponi" by the Piano Guys. These have been my two favorite songs this year. It's so amazing to me how music can speak to us in ways that nothing else can. Enjoy...
P.S. The video that accompanies Peponi is INCREDIBLE.
On our floor we etched in our family and personal mottoes--the themes that all lace together to form the undergirding of our lives. Soon they will be covered with carpet and tile, but every time we enter the thresholds of our front door and bedroom doors, we will know that we stand on holy ground.
Our house is progressing and now that I drive to pick up Easton from school every day, we make an almost daily trip to see how it's coming.
First was the framing...
And then the trusses...
Oh how i adore the 6 ft. wide, 5 ft. tall windows in the
dining room and great room, and the 4 ft. by 5 ft. windows in the
daylight basement. I can only imagine how beautiful it will be to see
the light streaming through these windows every day and the view is
breathtaking.
And here is the view from my kitchen window...
Windows all ready...
Stairs going up to our theater...
Theater...
Looking down at our car from the theater...
Going back down...
And now our house finally looks like a house--at least a wooden one. And I can't believe that less than 2 months ago all eye could see was an empty spot with big mounds of dirt all overgrown with weeds. It's a miracle to me, who understands so little of building and things like this.
We visit our house almost daily (or at least Patrick does since it's right up the street from his work). The pictures below show the concrete poured and the last visit we made on Saturday revealed the floor in the garage and basement to be poured (I forgot my camera for that one). They will start framing tomorrow...I really can't wait to see the walls start to take shape!
