The Never Ending Story

Its a beautiful Saturday afternoon at the Shepherd household. The boys are napping and I am trying to relax after a week of running like crazy at work.

It seems like the same old story for me. Nothing ever changes. We're discontented by where we live, how we live, and the general state of things. Looking out the window of my third floor apartment, I gaze over all the cars that seem to never move and wonder why I feel like I have to keep up with the Joneses when the truth of the matter is, my car sits still 90% of the time.

I can't stand the climb up three flights of stairs every day, but I can't find a more suitable place that I can afford to live in. Right now we're looking at the potential to move into a house that is situated on the edge of a horse farm. While the home isn't much to look at and is certainly not what I envision raising my boys in, it does offer some sentiment that is undeniably unique.

As I pulled up into the dirt-slash-gravel drive, I first noted that there was no garage. My first notion was...well...this is lame. But then, I have no garage here at my apartment complex either, so why is it that big of a deal? But when I stepped out of the car, the fragrace overwhelmed me. Something about it brought me home. The scent of unspoiled grass and wilderness with the slight aroma of horse "fertilizer" struck me instantly and reminded me of Nonni's place back in Texas (for those who don't know, "Nonni" is the name my mom adopted for herself when she first became a grandmother). In that moment, I can honestly say I felt like I was home.

As I walked in the front door, the professional remodeler inside me started immediately pointing things out that needed changing. Tiny kitchen. Wood paneling...everywhere. Inefficient windows. Outdated fixtures and appliances. This house, as it is, is in desperate need of a makeover. At least that's what I kept telling myself. I walked past the three bedrooms and two bathrooms into a huge family room on the back of the house. In my mind began the formation of a game room with a pool table at one end and a poker table at the other with a big tv hanging on the wall somewhere in between.

For some reason, though, I kept telling myself, "There's so much to do here. It'll take so much work for me to be happy in this house". The simple truth is, that's not true at all. If I can step past my pre-conceived notions on what a house is supposed to look like on the inside, I can make this house a home.

I walked out the door with the boys in tow and suddenly they blew by me like the bumble bees circling overhead. They had spotted adventure in the half acre or so that we were standing on and they were seeking it out. They were home.

I kept telling myself not to get attached. Why? They love it here! Its close to where I work and where Sarah works, but still removed from the crazy, busy traffic that is Acworth, Georgia. I could see myself turning this beat up, old "handy-man" special into a beautiful, quaint cottage with just some materials and time. Sarah fell in love with it as quickly as the boys did. The rent is significantly less than what I pay now. The owner-slash-landlord is the chairman of deacons at my church and he lives just around the corner. The setting is serene. I begin to think, "I could like it here".

So why not? The discussions are in the works, and we should know in a couple of days if we'll be moving again. But not to another temporary dwelling...this time, to a "home".