We recently decided to refinance our home. Nick told me a bunch of mumbo jumbo about it and then said, "I haven't told you the only bad news yet." I was expecting something pretty bad, but when he said, "They have to come in our house.. and take pictures.. of every room," I'm pretty sure I died. WAS HE STINKIN' SERIOUS?! My idea of cleaning is shoving EVERYTHING we own in our bedroom five minutes before company arrives and spraying some air freshener. Where do you hide everything when someone is going in EVERY.SINGLE.ROOM?! He was right - it was really bad news.
We are waiting to hear back from the appraiser to see what dollar value he gave our house, and it has me thinking about the true value of this place we call home.
There are some things that you just can't put a price tag on -
We are waiting to hear back from the appraiser to see what dollar value he gave our house, and it has me thinking about the true value of this place we call home.
There are some things that you just can't put a price tag on -
Like that front door where we turned the key to our first house those 7 short years ago when our marriage was new and our dreams were just starting to come true. Before we knew how much joy and heartache and growing life was about to bring. There's that skinny little window next to it where the nose and finger prints are so caked on windex doesn't even stand a chance... not that I've given it one. It's where little faces light up at the sight of daddy or papa or grandma or the garbage man. Where I stand and pray at 5 PM with a child on each hip on hard days knowing as soon as that little blue car pulls up, everyone can breathe again.
And the corner of the living room where that old brown chair sits - the one I've been nursing babies in for 49 months and counting, where we cuddle and read our favorite stories, and where I rock those babies to sleep when they just aren't feeling well - also known as: where I usually get puked on.
That nursery where we brought our first and then second baby home to. Where we've changed at least a gazillion diapers and rubbed backs and sang lullabies and climbed in cribs in desperate attempts to get babies to sleep. Where we've kissed tiny noses and converted cribs to toddler beds to twin-sized beds and onesies to soccer jerseys. Where I used to stand at the doorway and dream about the babies who would sleep there, and now I stand at the doorway and wonder how time has gone by so fast.
I can't leave out the bathtub - I'm convinced when I'm old I'll still hear the splashing and giggles and be able to picture their tiny little bottoms sticking up out of the water. Those post-bathtime snuggles all wrapped up in their towels and robes - you know those sweet moments before the meltdowns happen because it is definitely bedtime.
I can't leave out the bathtub - I'm convinced when I'm old I'll still hear the splashing and giggles and be able to picture their tiny little bottoms sticking up out of the water. Those post-bathtime snuggles all wrapped up in their towels and robes - you know those sweet moments before the meltdowns happen because it is definitely bedtime.
Or how about that master bedroom where we've fought, laughed, cried, and learned to forgive. Where we've stayed up all night just talking and reminiscing. Where we've spent many nights with a sleepless little boy in the middle kicking us, where we can't ever see the floor because the laundry is piled so high - a constant reminder that there is life in this house and we have plenty of clothing to keep us warm.
There's that master bathroom where I have that rule to smile in the mirror every morning no matter how wild my hair is and remind myself, "I am loved." It helps me face whatever lies ahead. That's the room where in two separate moments my entire life was changed and my heart wanted to explode with gratitude and joy. Connected to it is the closet where I sometimes hide and lock the door for just a moment of peace. Where I pray for just a little more patience and sometimes where I sneak a Hersheys bar so I don't have to share.
There's that master bathroom where I have that rule to smile in the mirror every morning no matter how wild my hair is and remind myself, "I am loved." It helps me face whatever lies ahead. That's the room where in two separate moments my entire life was changed and my heart wanted to explode with gratitude and joy. Connected to it is the closet where I sometimes hide and lock the door for just a moment of peace. Where I pray for just a little more patience and sometimes where I sneak a Hersheys bar so I don't have to share.
There's the basement where loved ones stay and where most of the fun takes place. Where we become firefighters and astronauts and chefs and puppies. Where dinosaurs fight great battles and where we rally everyone to play a Cyclone basketball game - better known as the "Trice always wins game." Where we have tea parties and rodeos and races and pet stores and take shelter from scary storms. It's also where most of the spiders live. Want to come visit?!
How about the kitchen?! Our house has an open concept which means the kitchen is always open. Funny how I loved that idea when we first bought the house and now I'd give anything for a door to shut. There's all those times spent baking cookies - measuring and pouring and cracking eggs and tasting dough. The eyes peering into the oven anxiously awaiting daddy's Birthday cake to finish baking. This is where the crumbs sit for days and hangry disagreements are always squashed after a hearty meal. Where the smoke detector goes off more often than I'd like to admit and the floor is usually soaked from little helpers doing the dishes.
How about the kitchen?! Our house has an open concept which means the kitchen is always open. Funny how I loved that idea when we first bought the house and now I'd give anything for a door to shut. There's all those times spent baking cookies - measuring and pouring and cracking eggs and tasting dough. The eyes peering into the oven anxiously awaiting daddy's Birthday cake to finish baking. This is where the crumbs sit for days and hangry disagreements are always squashed after a hearty meal. Where the smoke detector goes off more often than I'd like to admit and the floor is usually soaked from little helpers doing the dishes.
There's the dining room where we've held hands and prayed around the kitchen table. The same table where we sat to feed babies their first taste of real food, battled with willful 2-year-olds to sit down and not throw their plate on the floor, and cleaned up at least 3 million spilled glasses of milk. Where we've learned ketchup sometimes is a main dish and manners are always required. Where two kids excitedly tell their dad the highlights of their day. Where we open our Bible in the mornings to read about God's love for us. Where friends gather and where life just really happens with no distractions. This is also the place where I've learned to eat my cold food in 15 seconds flat.
How about that backyard with the swing set where she flies so high she can almost touch the clouds, where superheroes fight off villains, and sand castles are built on the daily - so.much.sand. Where we have picnics and run through sprinklers and play tag. Where the neighborhood kids flock to (because #swingset) and the "wish flowers" (dandelions) thrive! This is the place we marvel over God's creations the most - a spider's web, a unique rock, a bird perched on the fence.
And then there's that corner of the backyard where the carrots and tomatoes and peppers grow - where a little boy planted and watered and weeded all summer long and rejoiced when he was able to pick his first crop. Where we talk about hard work and perseverance and all sorts of important life things - like how if you spray the hose at the pepper plant for TOO long, it might actually drown.
There's the front yard where strollers have become trikes which have somehow turned into bikes. Where soccer balls are kicked and baseball bats are swung (sometimes at a sister's face). Where we've drawn at least 100 chalk rainbows and blown millions of bubbles. Where we've sat on the front steps after nap licking homemade popsicles. Where toddlers have escaped halfway down the block in nothing but a diaper with the biggest grin on their faces knowing we actually could not run fast enough to catch them.
That appraiser showed up at our house that day and saw a foundation and walls and structural things. He will put a value on that and we hope it's a good one, but what he couldn't possibly see that day was the love, laughter, joys, milestones, hopes and dreams. He surely had no idea about the sweat, frustrations, disappointments, heartaches, failures, and tears. He's never met the 4 people who are busy building a life inside those walls. All of those things weaved together are what makes this house a home. And that, my friends, makes this home: priceless.
And then there's that corner of the backyard where the carrots and tomatoes and peppers grow - where a little boy planted and watered and weeded all summer long and rejoiced when he was able to pick his first crop. Where we talk about hard work and perseverance and all sorts of important life things - like how if you spray the hose at the pepper plant for TOO long, it might actually drown.
There's the front yard where strollers have become trikes which have somehow turned into bikes. Where soccer balls are kicked and baseball bats are swung (sometimes at a sister's face). Where we've drawn at least 100 chalk rainbows and blown millions of bubbles. Where we've sat on the front steps after nap licking homemade popsicles. Where toddlers have escaped halfway down the block in nothing but a diaper with the biggest grin on their faces knowing we actually could not run fast enough to catch them.
That appraiser showed up at our house that day and saw a foundation and walls and structural things. He will put a value on that and we hope it's a good one, but what he couldn't possibly see that day was the love, laughter, joys, milestones, hopes and dreams. He surely had no idea about the sweat, frustrations, disappointments, heartaches, failures, and tears. He's never met the 4 people who are busy building a life inside those walls. All of those things weaved together are what makes this house a home. And that, my friends, makes this home: priceless.
