Home. There’s so much emotion tied up in that word. To most it means safety, comfort, love, support. It conjures up pictures…pictures of your childhood home, your dream home, or your family. To some it’s a physical place, to others it’s people or simply a person.
Songs like I’ll Be Home for Christmas make me think of Home as Canada, my Grandparents, and my family.
Songs like Carrie Underwood’s Temporary Home make me grateful to have a physical place to raise my family, grateful that I have a family to raise. Grateful for my foundations…both physical and emotional. Especially grateful for my spiritual foundations…laid by those who came before me; a reminder of what is temporary and what is permanent.
Phillip Phillips song Home makes me think of how I’ve tried to make my own Home. The value I place on it, and what it means to have one. In 39 years I’ve lived in 35 houses. When I counted them up, I had to go back and check because that number was even higher than I thought it would be. Startling when you consider I’ve lived in my current house for over 4 years. That makes a house for every year (though sometimes there were 3 in the same one) I’ve lived before moving to our Home. I’m not in the Witness Protection Program or anything, we just moved alot.
All that shifting made me determined to find somewhere, plant a tree, and stay to watch it grow. I spent years dreaming of what this Home might look like and built fantasies around what it would feel like. After 4 years of hard work, the structure that houses our family definitely feels like Home. It’s a pretty good reflection of the people who live in it. Imperfect, often messy, cluttered, bright, warm, comfortable, inviting, mismatched, and adaptable.
Hold on, to me as we go As we roll down this unfamiliar road And although this wave is stringing us along Just know you’re not alone Cause I’m going to make this place your home
Home. My Home. Home is my husband, who adorns the physical with his labors. He took a shell and created a nest. He gave me a place to plant that tree, in fact he bought me the tree for my birthday so you might say he gave me both. My husband who also makes the house the least part of it, because HE is Home.
Home. My Home. Home is my children, who adorn the physical with art, and music and dirty finger prints. Who can take seconds to wreak havoc on a tidy room or a just baked batch of cookies. They made the tree worth planting. They are the roots, and branches. They are the birds that sing in it, and the leaves that will one day blow away from it.
Settle down, it’ll all be clear Don’t pay no mind to the demons They fill you with fear The trouble it might drag you down If you get lost, you can always be found
Just know you’re not alone Cause I’m going to make this place your home
Home. Our Home. Home is where they’ll come back to. After they go. If I’ve done my job right, Home is where they’ll come to find themselves, if they get lost. Home is where they’ll come to heal, if they get hurt. Home is where they’ll come to find safety, comfort, love and support. Home is where they’ll come for Christmas, for celebrations, for wisdom and reassurance…I hope.
Just know you’re not alone Cause I’m going to make this place your home
I am beyond delighted to use this song today. I couldn’t wait to write this post! I was even more excited when I found this version from Warners Live Room. While I write, I play the song I’m using for that particular post on a continuos loop…hoping the flavor of the music will make it’s way into the writing and give everything a more unified feeling. This time, I’m so busy enjoying the song it’s hard to keep my fingers on the keyboard.
I’m gonna pick up the pieces,
and build a lego house
if things go wrong we can knock it down
My three words have two meanings,
but there’s one thing on my mind
It’s all for you
My husband Darren is a builder. He builds all sorts of things, including houses. He didn’t build the house we live in now but he may as well have. When we bought it there wasn’t much left that could be salvaged…a staircase, a stone flag floor in the hall, and the exterior walls. Darren worked 12 hours a day, 7 days a week for 6 months to make it habitable. He’s spent countless hours over the past 4 years working on the house – perfecting this and finishing that – so that the line dividing house from man is blurry. Everywhere I look I see the cocoon he’s made for us with skill, effort, and love.
‘Three words have 2 meanings’…and for Darren they do. I love you – romantic. I love you – paternal. Taken all together he expresses it like this, by keeping us warm and sheltered from the storms raging outside. I think, for many Dads this is the ultimate demonstration of love. They fix. They build. They provide.
And it’s dark in a cold December,
but I’ve got ya to keep me warm
and if you’re broken I will mend ya
and keep you sheltered from the storm that’s raging on now
Living with 4 children, of varying ages makes for some seriously creative parenting, and some vastly different responses. The words ‘Dad, you’re so out of touch with reality’ have been uttered by both elder children on numerous occasions. They think he doesn’t get it (they know I do, but I’m obviously uber cool) when they act young, foolish and reckless. Oh, he gets it alright…that’s part of the problem. He knows exactly what they’re planning and why. Those plans don’t work for him because it’s his primary objective to keep them safe. More than once he’s embarrassed them and ‘ruined their life’ all in the effort to stop them from ruining their lives. He’s had a steep learning curve with teenagers…but out of all these things he’s done I think he loves them better now.
I’m out of touch, I’m out of love
I’ll pick you up when you’re getting down
and out of all these things I’ve done
I think I love you better now
It must be torture for Dads, going from hero to zero. From King to taxi driver. From the guy who fixes everything to the one who spoiled your fun. When grunting is the only response how do you know you’ve been heard? How can you have confidence that the lessons of yesterday will affect the decisions your teen makes today?
I’m out of sight, I’m out of mind
I’ll do it all for you in time
And out of all these things I’ve done
I think I love you better now, now
A 17 year old daughter is terrifying for a Father. I watch Darren watch Grace get in her boyfriends car and I am torn between laughter and tears of sympathy. I see him double take at her outfits and know he is worried that her skirt is too short or her blouse is too transparent. When he sees how beautiful she’s become and fears that her beauty could be a weapon used against her. I’m sure, if he could, he’d frame her and put her on a wall…somewhere safe. Darren is fortunate that Grace has chosen well, her boyfriend is a good driver, polite, friendly, kind, respectful, warm and really fantastic. Emlyn loves him…in fact she said his name a couple of days ago which is a) AMAZING!!! and b) a testament to his awesomeness! Part of the reason Grace has chosen so well stems from the example set by Darren. If your Dad is the first love of your life and he teaches you to respect yourself, it’s easier to spot the genuine from the counterfeit.
I’m gonna paint you by numbers
and colour you in
if things go right we can frame it, and put you on a wall
And it’s so hard to say it but I’ve been here before
and I will surrender up my heart
and swap it for yours
I’m out of touch, I’m out of love
I’ll pick you up when you’re getting down
and out of all these things I’ve done
I think I love you better now
I’m out of sight, I’m out of mind
I’ll do it all for you in time
And out of all these things I’ve done
I think I love you better now
If a 17 year old daughter is hard, an adult son is harder. Making the transition from Father and Child to adult male relationship was not easy for Darren and Ryan. It got sticky for awhile. Ryan was never home, his choices were not the choices Darren would have made (Darren really would have preferred to be making the choices) and I guess it seemed like Ryan was drifting away…or running away…really fast. If you let the bond stretch right out, the fear will always be ‘is it breaking?’ Letting the inevitable separation occur was torment. But learning to let go was essential. It had to happen. Darren had to let go of Ryan the child if he was ever going to have a relationship with Ryan the man. It wasn’t a picnic, but they figured it out. These days they work together, the difficult times have drawn them closer, and truthfully…I think they love each other better now.
Don’t hold me down
I think my braces are breaking
and it’s more than I can take
When we sat down for dinner last night there were only 4 where there should be 6. Our nest is often missing chicks these days. Cameron and Emlyn are still fairly easy as far as parenting goes….but one day soon that will change. Cameron will roll his eyes, and start the same process we’ve just watched Ryan work out of. That’s okay. It will be hard, but I’m pretty sure when it’s over Darren will love Cameron, and Cameron will love Darren…better.
And if it’s dark in a cold December,
I’ve got ya to keep me warm
and if you’re broken then I will mend ya
and keep you sheltered from the storm that’s raging on, now
I’m out of touch, I’m out of love
I’ll pick you up when you’re getting down
and out of all these things I’ve done
I think I love you better now
I’m out of sight, I’m out of mind
I’ll do it all for you in time
And out of all these things I’ve done
I think I love you better now
Happy Fathers Day to all Lego House builders…especially Fred, Reg, and Darren (my Grampa, my Dad, and my Husband) I love you soooo much!
I’ve been thinking lately about relationships. I’ve been thinking about couples I admire so I can define – for myself – what makes some work and others fail. I’m not talking about longevity here, I know people who’ve been together for decades but I wouldn’t say their relationship works. I know people who’ve been together a short while and it’s apparent they will to go the distance.
I started my adult life with a rusty relationship toolbox full of not quite adequate tools. I had a big hammer and a working knowledge of its uses. That wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted a shiny red one full of well-worn and well-loved tools as well as some WD40 for the sticky situations. I wanted the kind of tools I could see my Grandparents had. Instead I had my barely functional rusty old junker. My parents made it for me.
My Mom and Dad had a confusing relationship. They were best friends, and laughed together every day. They could be extremely romantic, I would find them in the kitchen dancing and sneak back out feeling like I’d stumbled on something beautiful and intensely private. My Dad left my Mom Post It notes all over the house telling her he loved her. When things were good they were wonderful.
Cause I feel safe when you’re near me
And I can hold you completely
Although you constantly hurt me
My parents also knew how to fight. They would flay each other verbally. They fought so hard and so loud it felt like the house was going to cave in, and my heart along with it. They had no shortage of passion and there must have been an unhealthy kind of balance to it – they stayed together for many years – but eventually the scales tipped and the whole thing fell apart.
And we fight
And we cry
And we tell the same lies about love
The man I call my Dad is not in fact my father. He is my Dad, but he isn’t genetically related to me. That means less than nothing at all when it comes to love. Our relationship hasn’t always been easy, but I couldn’t love or respect him more. He was the first in our family I spoke to after that visit to the geneticist, and the only one strong enough to shoulder my grief. He didn’t try to tell me it was going to be ok, he just listened and absorbed and loved.
When my parents relationship fractured it was hard to know what to do – as an adult – with such a messy and toxic range of emotions. My Mom wasn’t at her finest, and honestly neither was my Dad. It took a LONG time for them to forgive each other for the pain they inflicted recklessly.
So I’m gonna drag you down
Whilst you drag me down
And I’m gonna shout at you
Whilst you shout at me until we realize that real love is free
But they did learn to forgive. In the last few days of her life my Mom was in the hospital and my Dad was sitting beside her. He helped my sister and I through every step of the arrangements made in the aftermath. He held my grandparents up at the funeral, literally. It comforts me to know that under the wreckage of their failed romance was a fortress of love and friendship.
And we cling to each other shoulder to shoulder against the world
I’ve tried to learn from the mistakes they made. In my marriage. I’ve tried to make sure the hammer stays in the toolbox and the WD40 gets replaced often. We stand together – shoulder to shoulder – and when one of us has the kind of bad day that results in bad behavior we think about the aftermath. The fall out for our kids and the chemical waste that eats a relationship. I’m not saying we always get it right, or even 50% of the time…but being aware is half the battle.
I am blessed. I do not take this for granted. I’ve been taught to count my blessings…but what do you do when you lose count? Each and every day I am aware of the many ways in which my life is vivid with colour and noisy with laughter.
I am blessed. Foremost of those blessings is that my Grandparents have lived long enough to know my children well. My Gram is among the best of my friends. My Grampa is the bench mark all other men are measured against. Their love is the romantic ideal I hoped for but never dared to dream I would find myself. I did. You see? I am blessed.
As a child I always found ways to be with my Grandparents. I would listen to my Gram play the piano, and help my Grampa in the garden. I loved to pick berries with him and then run inside to make jam out of those berries with her. I enjoyed watching my Grampa tinker for hours with things in his shed, the smell of it like bottled up work ethic and masculinity. I lived for the days that my Gram had her friends over for coffee, she always let me sit with them like I was all grown up and when I spoke they listened – teaching me that what I had to say was important. On stormy days I would curl up in their livingroom with a book , comforted by the sound of the rain and the thunder and of my Grandparents quietly laughing or praying together in the kitchen. In that house was joy, faith, and kindness.
When I was ten years old my baby sister died. It was like all the light went out of everything. Neither my Mom or I could stand to be in our house. My Grandparents took over and did everything from holding us while we cried, to cooking the food we never ate. They sat with me in the night when nightmare after nightmare stole my sleep. Their house, always a haven, became our refuge. When I think now how they must have been hurting. Their daughters pain tearing them to ribbons, my pain so demanding and childlike, and their own pain overwhelming and terrible. But still they provided the sanctuary in which we would heal. To us this was home, and home is where you want to be when life is suddenly fragile.
I have my own home now. My haven. I hope it’s the house that builds my children and my grandchildren. This house has sheltered us through the storms that life has blown our way. It’s the love inside a house that makes it a home. It’s the strength of the people holding up the walls and the laughter that decorates it. The love between my Grandparents was the foundation of their house, and it’s their house that built me.
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it This brokenness inside me might start healing Out here it’s like I’m someone else I thought that maybe I could find myself If I could walk around I swear I’ll leave Won’t take nothing but a memory From the house that built me
My husband Darren is not a complicated man. He believes in a few simple truths. Work hard and the product of your work is a reward in itself. Be honest – at all times in everything, even if the question is ‘does my butt look big in these jeans?’. Help those who can’t help themselves. Teach your children respect and they will be respected by others. Use good manners, open doors for ladies, treat your employees the way you wish your employers had treated you. Seek out the wisdom of men you admire. Put your family first, second and third…the rest can wait. Spoil your wife (ok, that one might not be his…but he does). Give your children everything you can, including the knowledge and skills to get it for themselves. Love hard, love totally, and love unconditionally. No, my husband is not a complicated man. He is a great one.
I can be your hero, baby. I can kiss away the pain. I would stand by you forever.
Our life together has been an adventure. We have built homes, built a business, and built a family. We have travelled, relocated and renovated in search of the warmest nest to raise our chicks in. We have laughed, loved, grieved, and grown. Through adversity we have learnt to cherish the simple joy of our friendship. In all things Darren is my partner – sometimes pushing me to go further and reach higher than I think I can, other times quietly standing beside me while I ache over lost opportunities or plans gone astray. Darren is my playmate, teasing me out of a foul mood or joining me when some silly thing takes my interest. His booming laughter bounces off the walls of our house, causing everyone else to smile in easy pleasure. No, my husband is not a complicated man. He is a heroic one.
I can be your hero, baby.
I can kiss away the pain.
I would stand by you forever.
