This week marks 22 years of living in the only house Les and I built together.
It is also the longest I have ever lived in any house.
My mom and dad built a house when I was 12,
so that divided my childhood into basically 2 different homes.
After we were married, we spent the first years moving with Les’ job.
Stacey was almost 2 when were were able to return to our hometown.
Twelve years later, we stepped out in faith and had a new house built;
one that the dirt in it would be only ours!!!!
This house has seen many ups and downs as we have walked out life.
We watched our daughter learn to drive here
and it was in this very driveway I stood and waved as she
pulled away for the very first time on her own.
We celebrated her teen year birthdays,
her high school graduation,
and her college graduation.
It was this house we opened for out of town guests to her wedding.
We celebrated, put up our feet, and ate leftover cake!!!
It was here we stood (or rather knelt!) for 3 long months as we
awaited what would happen with Les’ job.
It seemed as if there was a great big question mark hovering over our whole life.
Turned out to be what we didn’t want to hear,
but in hindsight was God at work, lining up for the future we could not see.
This house has hosted many get-togethers
It has also seen and heard things of which I am not proud.
Aren’t we glad our walls can’t talk?
Les was always a workaholic.
I was (and am) a homebody.
When he was on the road with his career job,
I was never afraid.
This house has always been a place I’ve felt safe.
During his fight with cancer,
we had the opportunity to spend more time together.
During those last few weeks,
we sat on the porch and just “were.”
It was a special time.
Les entered into his eternal home in our bed.
I was lying beside him just where I wanted to be.
I always thought I couldn’t sleep in a bed a person had died in,
but I’ve actually found it comforting.
He didn’t really die.
His body just gave out,
so his soul and spirit moved to his new home in heaven
to be with Jesus, whom he served and loved.
People ask me all the time if I am still living in our house
and/or am I thinking about selling it.
I do think about selling it,
but I don’t know what I would do if I did that.
I’ve heard of widows and widowers who avoid being home.
But I love to be here.
This is my place of refuge and peace.
Honestly, I am less lonely here than in a group or even a crowd.
This isn’t just a house.
This is a home.
Until the Lord lifts His cloud and indicates it’s time for me to move,
I will continue to enjoy being here.
God is my refuge and strength.
He is my joy and peace.
He is my comfort.
That will remain the same no matter where He leads me.
Lots of love, Sharon