Thursday, January 9, 2014


Yesterday, my mother gave me this plaque.

"You were supposed to be in your house!" she exclaimed.

Yes, we thought we would be in our house by my birthday--2.5 years after moving into the temporary trailer.  Life doesn't always go the way we plan.  If we were in our house, it would be a true saying.
Right now, it is a mantra, a reminder to be grateful.

We woke up to a breathtakingly beautiful snow.  Thick flakes fell, covering each branch of our towering pine trees.  It is one of my favorite times of year for that very scene.  I felt sure that my Heavenly Father, who knows me better than anyone, set the scene as a gift for my birthday.  I looked out the window and said something like, "I love being here!"

Then, the girls' bedroom door fell off its hinges.

"I love being here, I love being here, I love being here . . ."  Like the affirmation spoken by the Little Engine that Could, whenever something goes wrong with my dwelling, I remind myself that, broken down and falling apart as it is, we are warm and covered; we are sheltered in this often-frustrating shelter.

And we are still ever one step closer on this impossibly tall staircase to living in our home.

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