Old houses carry baggage.
Years of abandonement mean aches and pains that must be treated.
We know her war wounds and trust that this is where we are meant to be.
She will require years of hard labor.
Days will be spent digging and grating and hauling away the signs of neglect.
Who better to rebuild a broken space then those who understand how scars become beauty marks?
As we manage the unending waiting game of will we or won’t we get an offer on the place we live today, we will be content with our dreams about the day that old house gets to welcome us home.
Here’s the deal, this woman,
this one here,
in the white dress and big smile-
I’ll let you in on a secret.
She fails daily.
She at times finds it hard to breathe.
She’s been a less than perfect ex-wife.
She’s struggled with forgiveness.
She is an impatient mom.
She willingly admits these faults now because she is a recovering perfectionist.
In the recovery she has learned that the only way to slay the dragon is to acknowledge it and to name it.
You see the chase to perfect has eaten her soul at times.
It’s driven her body to revolt with shingles and kept her awake at night struggling to make her home look just as perfect as she hoped her heart would feel.
But perfect is an illusion.
It always leaves you wanting more.
What she craves is the joy that is born from the brokenness, from the failing.
So today, when she fails at work, at mothering, at being a wife, she will pause and remind herself that this life is much sweeter when she loves herself as her father loves her.
With or without that white dress and the big smile, full of imperfections, she will rest in his arms.