House and Home

Sometime around March 1 my husband and I started the massive undertaking of remodeling our kitchen. Our home was built in the mid 1970s and we had only done minimal updating of our kitchen since we bought the house in 1992. I’d been asking for a remodel for approximately five years and was beginning to question if it would ever come to pass until one day I was standing in a small puddle of water created by a leak in our dishwasher. We made a homeowners’ claim on our insurance and received a nice little sum of money to repair the damage that had been done. It seems that was the final straw to get my husband to decide it was time to begin the remodel.

The demolition began. Cabinets were removed. Fixtures torn out. Appliances relegated to the living room or garage. Flooring ripped up. Big mess created!

Not only did we want to remodel the kitchen, we wanted to lay flooring that would make the kitchen, dining room, hall and living room look as if it was one big room. More flooring ripped up. More furniture moved. All personal items packed up and stored. Bigger mess created!

By the time all was said and done to demo the old and begin anew, the entire downstairs of my home was affected, including the garage. All fourteen hundred feet of my home was in complete and total chaos.

This caused me to want to go room to room and clean, purge, revamp, tidy up. Needless to say, this was a daunting task. But as I’ve been going about working to recreate an inviting space of comfort and cleanliness, I’ve been taking moments of time to consider the photos, the mementos, the knick-knacks that fill our home. I decided it was time to STOP and look at what I found important enough, valued enough to decorate our living space. As I was putting our home back together I saw our life in photos and trinkets from days gone by. Baby pictures of nieces and nephews. Souvenirs from our travels to foreign lands. Antiques passed on from prior generations. Treasured photos of loved ones who have passed on.

Over the past few days I have walked down memory lane and have enjoyed every.single.second. Prior to this project, I’d begun to think our home had become a big giant conglomerate of silly things that simply took up space. It was cluttered and dusty and unkempt. Now … well now these things have once again become the things I love, the tangible objects that we have spent a lifetime acquiring. I have a renewed appreciation for the things that collect dust in our home and I vow to not take them for granted again. The thousands of photos remind me that I come from a big and loving family and married into a big and loving family. These photos remind me that we have friends in all corners of the world. These photos remind me that we have not lived a lonely life. The trinkets remind me of a person or place that is part of our past. Each item I have displayed in our home carries a unique story and reminds me that I have lived an adventurous life. And I have done all this with the most amazing person, my husband Scott.

I’m so grateful Scott decided it was time to remodel the kitchen. There was an obvious benefit to it – increasing the value of our home. And as it turns out, there was also a silver lining – reminding me that this space we live in is truly our home! It tells our life story, almost without me needing to say a word.

MOM GAVE ME WINGS

(Part 1 of a 2 part series)

At about the age of 20, my mom handed me a set of wings. Perhaps they weren’t real wings, I couldn’t touch them, play with them or wear them as part of a Halloween costume but they were no less significant. She may have even tried giving them to me earlier in life but I remember the day I accepted her offer.

I grew up in a small town in Oklahoma. When I was entering into 4^th grade we moved to the big city, Tulsa. I went to elementary school, junior high and high school all in the same area. The schools were all next to one another within a square mile. Home was within walking distance. The church we attended was full of friends and family. My safety was never an issue but none-the-less I’m sure my mother worried about me daily, as all parents do. 

In 1985 I met the boy of my dreams. At the time, I’m not sure I realized that but it certainly didn’t take long for me to recognize Scott was different. He was kind and considerate and was nearly always happy. We dated for a few years while he was in Oklahoma going to school. However, once he graduated and before he got a full-time job, he returned to his home town and his parents’ house in Pennsylvania. We were in the midst of having a long-distance relationship when he suggested that we meet up in Missouri. His dad (who was from there was planning a trip to visit his family). Scott told me that if I would be willing to make the drive from Oklahoma to Missouri, he would make the drive from Pennsylvania to Missouri with his dad so we could see one another. I was a little apprehensive. After all, I was just 20 years old, a female and at that time had really not ventured too far from the safety net of home, especially by myself. I was contemplating the decision before me when mom entered the room. “What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” I explained the details of Scott’s offer. I imagine she could sense two things from me: first that I wanted to go and second that I was a tad frightened about doing this trip alone. She looked at me and with conviction in her voice said: “Brenda, if you don’t do this, you won’t ever do anything.” “Well, alrighty then mom. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel.” I was a little shocked at her sternness and blunt answer and wondered where it came from. Why did she have such an opinion? Wasn’t she worried that something horrible would happen to me on such a dangerous mission? Didn’t she care? Was she throwing me to the wolves at the ripe old age of 20? Well, of course not! My mother loved me so very much and wanted to see me prosper. She knew she’d raised me to be a good girl, a strong girl and a girl who trusted in God, just as she had done her whole life. She was taking the opportunity Scott had presented and run with it. I wonder if she thought to herself that this was the moment - that prized moment when you realize as a parent it is time to gently and lovingly assist your child from the nest. Did she see this as a moment in time to seize?

A few days later she helped me pack up my car. She and my step-dad made sure I had plenty of money and that the car was in good running condition and on my merry way they sent me.

I ended up having a wonderful time and the trip, while great fun, was pretty uneventful. When I look back at this experience one thing is glaringly obvious. My mother put my feet on a path that is vastly different than what it could have been. She nurtured a sense of adventure, a sense of calm, a sense of trust that all would be okay. That sense has stayed with me to this day. She gave me a healthy set of wings and encouraged me to fly. She loved me enough to let me go.

Since then, I have quite often lived a life very much outside a warm and fuzzy comfort zone. Scott and I have traveled the world. We’ve gone to several countries where the natives don’t speak English. We’ve traveled to countries still under a communist regime. We’ve traveled to countries where Americans are not a favored visitor. Some of the travels I’ve done alone. I’ve traveled to many states alone. I’ve made both road trips and air travel alone.

So why am I telling you this story? Because I find it interesting that after all these years of living an adventurous life it has dawned on me that my mother did me a great service. She pushed me beyond not just my own comfort zone but hers as well. Actually let me rephrase that. I’m not sure at the age of 20 I had a determined comfort zone but I know she pushed me beyond her own. For many years she was a single mom and greatly worried about her children. She had created our lives in such a way as to minimize danger and harm. We lived in a bit of a bubble in order to remain safe. And yet when presented with an opportunity to help me make my own way in the world, she took it. She set her own fears aside and pushed me to expand and explore. I remain forever grateful to my mother for this act of courage. (My mother was instrumental in yet one more event that determined my future but I'm saving that for Part 2.)

To Ponder: What do you do, as a parent, that might help your child find his or her way outside the comfort of the life you created for them? Are you giving your child wings or are you holding back for fear of potential pain and suffering? Are you encouraging them to live a life of wonder or sabotaging their inner growth? Are you planting faith or fear?

My mom most definitely gave me wings. She encouraged me to live a life of wonder. She planted faith. "Thanks Mom!"