Not Just a Number

The other day, I posted a link to an article and included in my comment a sentiment about identity and it not being found in our sin struggles or orientation. Now I want to talk about something else our identity isn’t found in — Numbers. Whether it’s your age, your weight, the number of guys you’ve slept with, the number of drinks you’ve had, how much money you make, or [insert any other category here]. These things don’t define us — good or bad, they are just a tiny part of our story and you’re still in the middle of your story. 

The number that has plagued me most of my life is my weight. It may seem trivial to you, or maybe like me it’s been the thing you focus most on, but either way, please stick with me, ‘cause I promise I have a point.

I have dieted on and off since middle school when my doctor told my mom I was overweight, and she started giving me half sandwiches and snack size bags of chips in my lunchbox instead of the full size all my friends were eating. I noticed the change, and it annoyed me, but it was life. I don’t think I started to care or take ownership of my weight until high school; in fact, as a child I took pride in the fact that I weighed more than my big brother, not realizing that wasn’t a fact I should brag about. As I started high school and transitioned from a major tomboy to a young girl who wondered why boys didn’t seem to like me the way they liked my friends, I came to the conclusion that it must be because I’m fat/ugly. (It should be noted that I wasn’t bullied, not really; there may have been a minor comment once or twice over the years, but I came to this conclusion on my own, not because someone blatantly told me so.) 

That’s when I took over my “health” journey. At that point, it wasn’t about health, it was about being skinny. I lost weight and got to a place where I was skinnier a few times over the years, but I never looked quite as thin as the other girls, and I always gained it back…plus some. After my cousin’s wedding in 2016, I went on a pretty intense diet. It was designed innocently enough, eat healthy foods, take all these supplements and the weight will fall off, and it did, at first. But then I hit a plateau, so I ate a little less. I’d drop some more weight and plateau again, so a little less food it was, until I was barely eating the equivalent of one meal a day. But I was at my skinniest….and I still wasn’t skinny enough. That’s when I threw in the towel. I knew I wasn’t being healthy, and it wasn’t really working anyway, so I decided to focus on loving my body the way “God made it.” Or so I told myself. 

I was finding my identity in a dumb number that the world told me mattered. I thought I had to fit into this box that experts said I should, and when I didn’t fit, I thought I was inherently flawed. I believed I was worth less because there was too much of me. I tried to find a balanced middle ground, but even when I tried to love my body at it’s heavier weight, no matter how much I said I was ok with it, deep down I was disgusted with myself for not having the self control I thought was the key to being thin. 

The next year or so I ate what I wanted when I wanted. I was working out a lot (at this point I was in the process of trying to get on with the fire department), so physically  I was gaining weight, but I didn’t just get super fat all of a sudden or anything. I was muscular and a relatively average size, but I still wasn’t healthy. I was in shape for a while; during academy I was REALLY in shape, but then forced daily workouts came to an end, and I continued to eat what I wanted whenever I wanted. And that brings us to this past year. I’ve done a lot of growing in the mental health department over the past few years, but this past one focused in more on my body and my health. I grew to understand that skinny doesn’t equal health. And neither does heavy. I get now that there is beauty in all body types, so just because I’m not petite and a size small like my best friend doesn’t mean I’m not beautiful in my own right. At the same time, it’s not healthy to eat anything and everything just because you can. And while all body types are beautiful, we should still strive to be healthy and take care of the body God has given us. We just need to realize that my body looks different when it’s healthy than yours does and yours looks different than his, and his looks different than hers. 

SO this new year when I decided not to make a resolution (which I never stick to anyway), but to make a true change, I was in a much healthier mindset to do it. I decided I wanted to start a new health plan - not a diet. I refuse to call it that. This isn’t about losing weight; it’s about taking care of my body and getting to a healthier physical place. Don’t get me wrong, my weight is still incredibly distracting. The plan I’ve found and love does have you weigh yourself every day, but it’s so you can create a healthier relationship with that number. By weighing every day, I’ve learned that even when I eat perfectly all week, my weight fluctuates up and down based on things as small as water consumption, sleep, hormones, and how much salt I ate. And I do tend to get frustrated when the number stays the same for “too many” days in a row. But then I remember how much energy I’ve had because I’m fueling my body well, and how much clearer my skin has been because I’m not feeding my body junk, and I’m okay with not being tiny. Because being tiny or curvy, or whatever adjective you want to use to describe me, that doesn’t define me. 

Today I’m about half way through the health program I’m on, at the end I will go from the “get healthy” phase to the “stay healthy” phase, and I already feel so much more confident in my own skin. My clothes fit better and I feel better. So yay for health. But even if I never get to my “goal weight”, or I gain it all back again, or or or…I am not a number on a scale. This struggle is a part of my story. It’s a part of why I will never say no to a chocolate chip cookie, but I will say no to 10. It’s part of why I will compliment any stranger if I notice something, whether it’s cute shoes or a beautiful voice, we all like to be noticed every once in a while. It’s why when I see a chubby person at the gym I smile encouragingly. And it’s why I find my identity in Christ and not a number.

Growing Pains

            “For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out.” Romans 7:18

Step 1 – Admit.

You’d think I’d get it by now. I fail; over and over I fail. I confess, not in a self-deprecating, please give me a compliment kind of way. Rather in the way of being a sinner, a human, by very definition… I fail…. My flesh is incapable of good. I find myself caught in the lie of thinking I’m a good person. I’ve never murdered anyone, I don’t have premarital sex, and I do my best to honor my father and mother. Pick any big one from the Bible and chances are I haven’t done it – I’m not trying a humble brag, quite the opposite. I’ve done plenty of horrible things, just not the ones people tend to think of. That’s the point. The Holy Spirit has been doing some painful work in me as of late. Satan has been bringing back some past struggles and the Spirit is using that to point out the ugly truths of my heart's current state.

It seems unfair to be so vague with my imperfections, like I’m only half taking off the masks, so let me show you my ugly truths:

[Deep breath, this is gonna be painful, just do it like a band aid]

Judging those I view as less intelligent and/or less “good”

Gossiping about my peers

Past pornography & masturbation

Assuming I know best/am right

Self-righteousness

Negative interpretation of others’ actions

Responding in anger

Gluttony

Cheating

Restriction motivated in vanity

Impatience

Lack of empathy

And so many more.

I told you it was ugly. I am aware enough to make this list, and yet one of the things on my list is still self-righteousness: having or characterized by a certainty, especially an unfounded one, that one is totally correct or morally superior. Now do you see how messed up I am?

Ignorance really is bliss. God’s revelation of these faults to me has been painful to say the least. I am incredibly humbled to see how sinful I really am. Practically every day something happens where I fail to be who I want to be and show, again, my true colors.

It has also been humbling to see how much work God has done in me so far. Some of these sins are past struggles, struggles that He has removed from me so far as the east is from the west. He has forgiven me and cleansed me of them. By the grace of God and through His strength alone, I haven’t sought out pornography in more than three years. Even greater news is that through this process God views me through the filter of Jesus, despite all of my shortcomings and failures, all of my ugliness, He looks at me and calls me beautiful; He sees the perfection of Christ.

            I ask daily that God will prune me and strengthen me, making me more like Him. I want to undergo this process, but, boy, is it a hard one. Why does that surprise us? I mean, the procedure is called pruning after all. Pruning isn’t done with a child’s stuffed animal, it’s done with razor-sharp shears. It’s often a long and slow process before your work yields anything of beauty.

            John Chapter 15 starts, “I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. ² He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. ³ You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. ⁴ Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.

⁵ “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. ⁶ If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. ⁷ If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. ⁸ This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.”

            Did you catch that? Say it out loud and listen: “... every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful...This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.” Sometimes being aware of your complete and utter depravity can be rather depressing. Who doesn’t love to hear what a horrible person they are? But, if you remind yourself of truth and place this pain in context, it’s turns from depressing to hopeful, maybe even exciting. If the Spirit is pruning you, yes, you have faults (we all do), but it means you’re bearing some fruit, “he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.” What could be more hope-giving and exciting than knowing that the Lord is working in you, investing in you, molding you into something beautiful, making you more like Him.

I can’t think of one.

11 More Days

     I spent this afternoon cleaning my room and doing laundry. On the one hand it was great, I was being a productive and responsible adult and my room desperately needed to be cleaned (it was getting to that point where it was stressing me out just being there), but on the other hand it was SO depressing because, I don't know if you've looked outside today but, today is a beautiful, gorgeous, sunny, perfect Spring day - and I spent it cooped up inside. That's when I realized I needed a small break, a distraction, and realized I hadn't posted in a while - so long that quite a lot has happened.
     My last post "Fingerprints" was about getting into McKinney FD and then feeling like that was ripped from me when I didn't pass my Polygraph/Psych eval, but knowing that God was there and He is good. Man is He good. In February I got a call from Ms. Gwen at Dallas Fire and Rescue's Recruiting office. It was 7 am on a Thursday morning. She asked if I was still interested, groggy and confused I said yes. Now, 2 months later almost to the day, I've passed all my evaluations, medical and otherwise, I've gotten my official letter, I've got my uniforms and now...I start in 11 days.
     That Thursday I was SO confused. I'd thought God closed this door. I'd mourned the idea of becoming a paramedic. I was learning to trust Him and was kinda doing great at it, content to wait and see. Suddenly I was excited to have the opportunity, relived all my hard work wasn't for nothing, nervous that I might not be good enough or that something would happen and I wouldn't actually get to start. The past 2 months have been spent eating salads and lots of protein, working my butt off to get stronger and faster, praying through my anxieties, giving my nerves to God, recognizing that what I view as failure may be different from what He views as failure, and trusting that no matter what happens My God is still Good and He is the one in control.
     I'm still scared I'll embarrass myself and/or fail out, but I know that if I do it won't be because I wasn't doing my best to succeed. It won't be because my God failed me. It will be because He wanted me to learn something and now it's time to move on - granted I hope that's not His plan. Here's what I pray:

     God, I know I can't do this alone. I'm weak and slow and I don't have the skills to face this challenge...God I honestly don't even know what to expect and that scares the crap out of me. Please, God, don't let me fail. Give me strength, help me get faster and more resilient, give me the encouragement and skills I need Lord. Use me Lord, make me bold to speak your love and truth to the new people I will meet - let them never doubt where my strength comes from. Give me opportunities to share your good news with people who've never heard it, people who may see you soon. You're the one in control, you have all the power, God humble me daily and remind me of these truths, that I won't try to complete this journey alone, not even one step.

     I start the Dallas Fire Academy in 11 days, I've never been more excited and nervous for a new chapter in my life...I think it's because I've never been more sure that God was at work and in control. I love the feeling of knowing I'm right where He wants me, right where He placed me. Though like many people I tend toward the thinking of "what if I mess it all up," as if I could wreck God's plans, all I have to do is obey. I can't wait to see what He has in store, over the next 11 more days, the next 6 months, and the years after that.
     I've recently started memorizing James (I'm moving quite slowly though it) and I've found that it is even more amazing and applicable than I ever realized:

James 1:2-5
Consider it pure joy my brothers whenever you face trials of many kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish it's work that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault and it will be given to you.

     It continues on with more wonderfulness, but these 4 verses have really been sticking with me, "let perseverance finish it's work that you may be mature and complete.." What a reason to strive, to lean on the Lord, to push through to the end: "that you may be mature and complete."

Fingerprints

I wrote this blog in a couple of chunks, the first section last Tuesday & Wednesday (12/6 & 12/7) and the last portion today (12/14), one week later.

     Do you remember the children's song "Hip Hip Hip Hippopotamus?" It has this line:
          God's fingerprints are everywhere, just to show how much he cares.
     Today God gave me a glimpse of his fingerprints in my life. My last post #101 was about not getting an offer to be in the fall class at the Dallas Fire Academy. This post is about the offer I got today, an offer that if I'd been in the academy in Dallas I never would have received.

     You see, this morning, I had an interview with the Chief and the Fire Marshall in McKinney. I went into the interview with the impression that offers weren't going to be given until early January. That's what I'd been told and I'd prepared myself to wait about a month. But after my interview the Chief asked that I wait outside for a few minutes while he and the Marshall talked. Two minutes later he walked out, shook my hand, and gave me a conditional offer! My day went from normal/slightly exciting to FREAKING AMAZING!!!!


On Monday (12/12) I had a Polygraph and a Psych evaluation for the position I'd accepted. I was nervous. I have this thing...I overthink. I can't seem to shut my mind off, no matter how hard I try. Through all 500 and something Psych questions and the evaluation I was trying to be honest and not choose the answers based on what I thought they wanted. During the Polygraph I prayed God would help me through it.

     I don't know if you've ever taken a Polygraph, but they suck!! I used to think, as long as your honest you should be fine...then I took one. I confessed everything I could think of to the guy, like ALL my deep dark secrets - well the ones that were applicable to the questions he asked anyway. But then when I'm hooked up to the machine my mind is racing the whole time, "Did I forget to tell him something? No I told him that. He didn't ask about that. That was before I was 17, he said since then. The question has nothing to do with that." And on and on my mind went, making me more and more nervous. On top of that, the guy asked one of the questions wrong the first time, which might not sound like a big deal, but completely threw me off. And then my phone started buzzing in my pocket which threw off the test.

Anyway, the guy told me then and there that my Polygraph results were inconclusive. He didn't know what that would mean for me, McKinney could ask me to take it again, they could not care, or they could rescind my offer. And the lady who did my Psych eval, she didn't give me any feedback, I might have passed with flying colors or I could have failed terribly, we will probably never know.

So yesterday I worried a bit and was down. But my day ended spectacularly. I went to the Shane & Shane/Phil Wickham Christmas Concert at The Porch (the Young Adult service at my church). We spent the night worshiping God and I was reminded about His fingerprints. We sang praises and laughed and everything was as it should be, with me knowing that God is in control. That all that shame I felt in my polygraph, all those thoughts and worries, all of them were lies from the enemy, for I am Free in Christ & God has forgiven all my sins. That He loves me more than I can imagine and His plan is far better than any plan I can come up with. I don't know that plan and that's okay.

Then, about an hour ago, I got an email...

Dear Meredith: 

The selection process of the McKinney Fire Department serves to measure areas that are crucial to the position of McKinney Firefighters. This process includes successfully passing all steps of the hiring process.

I regret to inform you that you did not pass the Polygraph and/or Psychological Exam as required by the conditional offer letter. As a result, your conditional offer of employment is hereby rescinded. 

We wish you well in your future employment endeavors. 

City of McKinney 
Human Resources Department

I still don't know His plan. I'm still sad. I'm kinda angry. I'm confused. I want this to be some kind of practical joke. I want to be starting the next chapter of my life. I want to move forward instead of feeling stagnant...again. I want to know.
But I KNOW God is good.

Last night one of the songs we sang was Psalm 23, which opens with the line:
The Lord is my Shepherd I shall not want
Obviously I've still got some growing to do. It continues:

In green pastures He makes me lie down He restores my soul and leads me on for His Name

for His great Name

surely goodness surely mercy right beside me all my days and I will dwell in Your house forever and bless Your Holy Name

Maybe this is my green pasture. Maybe I'm not ready for the next chapter yet. Maybe the timing just isn't right. I don't know.
But I know MY God is good. I know that I don't need the things my heart is longing for. All I need is Him. I know that God is working in my life. I know His fingerprints are here, I'm just too close to see. I know His plan is good. I know that good doesn't always feel good.
But I know my God is good. And I am loved.

#101

I will not be getting an offer to attend the Dallas Fire Academy this Fall. I needed to be top 40...

That's the news that ended my long and wonderful Saturday. My first reaction was anger at the men who didn't see me as good enough, then annoyance with God for ending such a great day that way and for His plan not aligning with my wants. But beyond initial feelings, I was too exhausted to process so I went to bed. I spent all day yesterday watching TV and eating left-over pie in my bed. I didn't talk to anyone (other than a few phrases to my roommates), I didn't go anywhere, I just spent the day alone, not really mourning or stewing, but just being, kind of recovering from a busy summer, a busy month, and a particularly exciting but stressful week.

So today, now, is really the first time I'm thinking about and processing the news that I won't be starting with Dallas this fall. And honestly I'm okay with it. I'm choosing to be okay. Yes, I wanted it; I'm anxious to be on my way along this new path, but as my family pointed out, there are other cities I've applied to/am applying to. I'll get in when and where God wants me to; He could be saving my life, and He could be saving someone else's.

I have trouble sometimes with the head/heart connection. So my head is there 100%...okay maybe like 90%, but logically I get it and I trust that it's for the best. My heart, my feelings are another matter. I'm still sad and frustrated, but I'm working on it. Honestly, and we're about to go pretty deep here, one of my core struggles in life is trust & belief, so the enemy is having a field day playing with those. I don't know why I struggle with trusting God and believing He's good; it honestly makes no logical sense, but my heart is all kinds of messed up and it struggles daily with these issues.

I know my parents love me unconditionally; I also know that my parents are nowhere near perfect, but they would do almost anything for me. And yet I struggle to grasp how a God that is perfect, that is the very source of love, could do the same. I know I haven't earned it, and I know Christ's sacrifice was payment for my failures, but sometimes...sometimes it doesn't seem like enough. It breaks my heart to admit I think that at times, but that's step one right? I can't ask God to fix me if I won't admit I'm broken.

As for my trust issues, I've never really understood where those come from, but I guess it's kind of hard to trust someone you don't understand. Trust is a choice, or so I'm told, but I don't really understand how. I mean I can say all day I trust you, and I can even want to...but that doesn't make it true. However, with some people, I don't remember ever choosing to trust them, I just do, 'cause I know in my heart they always want what's best for me...I don't know how to make my heart know that.

I usually try to end my posts with a nice little bow. I mean that's what we're taught in English, right? I should know considering who my Mother is, we're taught to end papers with a conclusion paragraph that restates the main ideas of the paper and draws everything back together completely-- the perfect little bow. But I just can't--because perfect little bows aren't reality. Reality is a lopsided double knot that's going to come untied anyway.

Yes, I'll keep praying and choosing to trust God 'cause I'm never going to understand the bigger plan and I don't have a better option. 'Cause my only other option is me and I KNOW I can't trust me. But that doesn't mean each day isn't going to be a struggle, each day is going to be a battle, and, yes, I know God's already won the war, but that doesn't take away from the reality of my current fight. I'm sure I'll fail some days. But I'll win more. And eventually...I don't know what will happen eventually, and that sucks, but if I did know I'm sure I'd find a way to screw it up. I don't want to follow a God I can comprehend, I want to follow a God whose plans are so great I could never imagine them, and I do.

Runaway

When I went off to college, I thought it would fix everything. I thought I would transform into the beautiful independent woman that I pictured myself as. I thought I would find my path, my husband, my life. But that’s not what happens when you run away from your problems.

A lot happened that year when I was eighteen. I was graduating high school, on top of the world, I knew everything. I had plans. I was going to college, I was going to become a movie editor, I was going to get married at twenty-two to the man of my dreams, and by thirty I would have three to five kids in a house with a pool. 

Then the world as I knew it ended.

And it was my fault. 

My first semester of college was ruined, and I no longer knew who I was. I tried to cling to my old dreams, but they no longer fit with who I was becoming. The next four years turned into a frantic search for who I was and what I was supposed to be doing with my life. I changed my major on a yearly basis as my dreams changed from editor to doctor to just being me. I switched primary friend groups almost as often with only a strong few staying constant. I swung between being the nerd, to the fitness guru who never studied, to the couch potato who also never studied. It wasn’t until I was graduating and leaving that I realized I had found who I was. In the month after graduation, still looking for a job in some unknown field and preparing to move back in with my parents, I realized that somewhere in the midst of the searching and the grieving and the fighting, I’d found myself.
I’d made friends and had experiences that had allowed the real me to resurface. I hadn't fully dealt with what happened and was nowhere near healed, but I'd been able to heal just enough to find myself...or at least enough to realize that I didn't have to. Have you ever heard the saying, "There's no one alive that is youer than you," by Dr. Seuss? It's simple and silly, but oh so true. I didn't spend four years trying to find myself. I was always me, right there in the midst of the pain, I was me and I was changing. I spent four years not understanding myself and learning that I don't need to have a plan, God has one. One of the first questions you get as a young adult meeting new people is: "What do you do?" And if you don't have an awesome, adulty answer and you aren't going to grad school you're left with this awkward, "Um, well I'm ..." and then trying to come up with a cooler way of saying a temp, or an assistant, figuring it out, or any number of other things society doesn't deem as an adult job/career worth pursuing. But the thing is, my identity isn't in my career, it isn't in where I'm headed or what I'm doing it. My identity is in who I'm doing it for, Christ.

That summer, that year, when I started college is my moment. My moment I regret and wish with all my heart I could take back, and yet I wouldn’t be who I am today without it. I wouldn’t be where I am or know whom I know if I hadn’t gone through that terrible year. I wish I could say I now understand the bigger picture and I don’t have regrets, but that’s simply not true. Now I know that I’ll never get the bigger picture, it’s not my job to get it. I do have regrets, but I try to learn from my sins and better myself. While I can rarely tell why something is happening as it happens, I do have a better understanding when I look back and thus a greater appreciation for the way God works.

Just a House

My Dad and I stopped by my grandparents' house this weekend. He's hoping to have the estate sale some time in the next two weeks. Everyone has had plenty of time to look through things and find sentimental pieces to keep in memory of Grandpa (Charlie) or Grandma Elaine. Now it's time to let go of the things that are just stuff and, ultimately, the house. When I realized this moment was so near I turned to my Dad, as we sat in the F-150 he'd inherited from Grandpa, his own piece of his dad, and told him with complete sincerity, "You know you're not allowed to sell your house right? Seriously not until I can buy it." Daddy chuckled and responded with, "I know, it will be weird, seeing someone else live here, but it's just a house."

Home

Um no, it is not just a house. My great-grandfather built this house. I grew up in this house. Countless sleepovers, birthday parties, pets, fights, adventures have been had in this house. You cannot just give away my memories. It was and is hard enough watching grandparents move or their former houses being sold off, but you can't sell our house!

This led to a conversation of when my Mom's great-aunt sold the family farm and with it all my dreams of what my future wedding would be. My dad lightly pointed out they were his wedding memories, and my heart ached even more.

8.30.86

Unlike my mother, who was a military brat, I lived in the same house from birth until college (and even then I lived there over the summers and for a few long months after graduating). I moved across the hall at the age of 3 when my dad finished his addition to the family home, but other than that I'd lived in the exact same place for 18 years. Suffice it to say, I'd grown comfortable with my place there; the only major change was a paint job when I was around 6 and then again as a tween, and I liked it that way, void of any major disruptions.

I was awakened to the fact that this home was no longer mine (though I am always welcome back) when my mother started redoing MY bedroom the summer after I graduated from college....while I was still in it. I watched her systematically erase my childhood...or at least that's how it felt. I know she was actually turning it into a more mature and neutral space for all visitors, including myself...but it's weird to think of myself as a visitor in this place (except when it comes to chores, I'm cool with being a visitor in that respect, lol).

Mother's Day 2014

I don't know what exactly it is, but something about the way we associate memories to the atmosphere they took place in makes it incredibly hard to say goodbye. Maybe it's because so many of my happy memories happened in those places; it's like nothing will ever be quite as happy because it won't be here. I know that isn't true, but it feels like it sometimes. Like the family farm, it was the perfect wide open space to play as kids, and I remember it fondly and perfectly, but I've had even more happy memories in the homes my grandparents have lived in since then.

However, this is a little different. The house my grandfather lived in is the house my dad grew up in. It's 5 houses down from the house where I grew up. It's where I went after school in kindergarten to eat turkey sandwiches and watch Barney with my grandpa. It's where I played in the same room my dad did as a kid, and "helped" my grandpa in his garden. It's different because I'm old enough to be aware; I'm old enough to miss it. I'm old enough to know it's just a house and yet not.

My parents aren't moving; they aren't selling their house (not as far as I know, and if they are they have some explaining to do). But I still dread the day that they do. Because as sentimental as the farm was and my grandpa's house is, their house has even more history. My great-grandfather built their house, my grandpa helped. My dad added onto it with the help of my uncle and friends. This house is a part of my family. This house is where I fought with my brother over cartoons, cried for hours over my first loose tooth, jumped in puddles wearing my best nightgown, wrestled with cousins over Easter eggs, broke in through the bathroom after forgetting my key...this house is where I grew up; this house is where I became me. This home is just a house, and yet so much more.

That nightie used to be white.

I've dreamed about my future here, bringing my kids someday, teaching them softball in the yard, climbing in the tree house my dad built for us as kids. Watching my kids help their grandpa in the garden, tossing coins in the "wishing well," family cook outs and kids playing tag, family games of football. I've always imagined it with this place as the backdrop...it's the perfect backdrop. But this home is just a house. As the saying goes, "Home is where the heart is, and my heart is where you are." So I may shed a few tears when my grandfather's house is sold, and even more when my parents inevitably move, but that's okay because this house is just a house, and I'll still have my family to come home to.