This weekend we’ve been “house sitting” for my parents. My brother is at home but because we’re staying in a tiny space at my in-laws house, my folks thought we might like a break for the weekend.
They have lived in this house for the last 11 years, we moved here from Swaziland when I was 11. This house has many memories of times spent with friends and family, full of love and laughter. Its like there’s love painted on the walls and in the furniture… this home that my parents so loving provided for their family. There were times when the bond repayments were too much, and they wanted to sell to get a smaller place in a cheaper area. But each time the Lord pulled through and provided the money. This house is not a house, it is not just a building, it is a home that even after not living here for a year and 9 months, I still feel safe and loved here. I know it sounds ridiculous, but even though my folks aren’t here at the moment, the time and energy they put into this place makes it feel like they are here. Their love is here. I feel like all the troubles of the last 4 months have disappeared when I’m here. Like the little hole in the wall full of boxes and leaks and mouldy furniture is a distant memory. This place is home…
One day I want to be able to say that about the home that my husband and I are trying to make. I want our kids to be able to come home when they are older and married and feel the same sense of love all around them, that I feel now. Its not unlike the love of our Father, its not visible, but we can feel it as strongly as our own heartbeats.
One day… but fr now, I relish and treasure this feeling, the love and the warmth of a home filled with love. A home where family is the most important thing. I am so grateful to my parents for blessing us with this.