I have recently struggled with all the issues of our house. Dookie ditch still plagues us, we just don’t have the money it takes to overhaul an entire septic system, so we’ve done what we can to deal with the issues that arise from time to time. The gas money is non-existent, therefore our trips to town are rare, as well. I long to live in a community. A place where we can run to the library for their summer programs. Where I can join the local ball teams and not have to plan the trip to town. Where I can run to Wal-Mart in less than 30 minutes. Even the city, I am a city girl at heart as much as a country girl. I want the best of both worlds. In our capital city is a little history museum. There’s a little cabin on a little plot of fenced-in land surrounded by a tall beautiful wooden fence. Right smack in the downtown River Market. That’s my dream home. To have the hustle and bustle all around me that I could join at any moment and yet have my own little piece of green to let the kids run on and plant our garden in.
But in the midst of our wanting something different I’ve looked around and seen the wonders He’s given me right here.
We live where the commute for my husband is so short we can run him to work when his car is out of commission. We live on land that allows my children to run and play. We live with enough space to grow our first garden. Where we can shoot fire works, have bonfires, see the stars at night, where there are rarely sirens or signs of disaster.
And where I have a front porch.
At home when I was growin’ up we did quite a bit of back porch sittin’. But I’ve discovered in my now all-grown-up life here in my first home we’ve owned that I do a lot of front porch sittin’. My parents gave me these rocking chairs that we had my whole life and the kiddos and I sanded ‘em down and sprayed a coat of black paint on them. The seat in the little chair gave out not long ago and I have plans to fix it. Someday. The milk jug has also been around most of my life and is also showing off it’s fairly new coat. My husband painted the front door last year to match our shutters and my chairs, but our dog has now scratched a well-worn spot of “let me in”. My girl decorated the spot by the door when she was in her own terrible twos and is also the one that picked the wild flowers for my Mason jar. This is the porch where I chat with friends on the phone, where I watch the summer sun set, where I cut my children’s hair (as well as the dog’s sometimes), where I can see the kids ride their bikes, jump on the trampoline and watch for Daddy to come down the drive. Where I’ve sat with neighbor children and talked of their ball games and school work. Where I’ve shed tears, laughed out loud, hugged friends, and called the kids in countless times already. Where I’ve brought home one new baby and prepare to bring another.
Where I welcome each morning and it’s beautiful new mercies.
