The concept of “home” has never been straight-forward for me. I’ve lived in six different cities and many different apartments and rentals within each city. All these places feel a little like home.
Perhaps one of the advantages of a nomadic adulthood is that I do feel at home in many places. And yet, I don’t feel fully at home anywhere. That’s mostly good, I think, to remember that we are all just sojourners, that we really ultimately belong to God and find our home in God.
But recently, we moved. With a newborn and three year old, two dogs, two grandparents, and me & Mike, we moved to a new home in San Francisco. It’s a single family home where both kids have their own room, and there’s an in-law unit, so Mike’s parents can have more space. We’re so lucky to be able to do this, and I’m grateful Calvary for helping make it happen.
It was one ugly house on one of the busiest streets in San Francisco. But the day we walked in, Mike and I knew it could work. We saw its potential, and we’ve been making it feel more and more like home ever since we got the call that they’d accept our offer.
Since then, it’s gotten a lot prettier- a lot of work and decisions that mostly Mike made which I just get to enjoy. He’s got an eye for interior and exterior decorating that I just don’t seem to have.
I am overwhelmed with gratitude that we get to live here, even when weird electrical wiring confuses us or the old plumbing goes awry. This is home, for now any way. And our children will grow up here for at least a little while.
One of our projects was to make our backyard more livable and low maintenance. This included putting in a large slab of concrete in the middle for bike and scooter riding or basketball dribbling and chair sitting.
Our contractors poured the concrete today, and I had this sudden idea to write our names in the concrete. I’ve always wanted to do that- it seems so subversive and like you’re making a mark in time that’ll be there for generations. Since it’s our own backyard, it’s not illegal, also less subversive, I suppose.
The guys let me know when it was best to do it. I wish I could’ve had the kids make hand prints, but they said it would’ve been too hard by the time they got home this afternoon.
So I just did it. It was harder to write on concrete than I thought. And I didn’t have a lot of time to give it much thought or line it up all that well apparently.
But it makes me smile to see our little mark in the backyard knowing that it’ll be there until someone decides to pull up the concrete. This is our home.
And this little gesture really cemented it into reality (pun intended, obviously).