HOUSE of MIRACLES…part one

Today seems like a good day to bring out an old journal entry from several years ago to share with you. Part of the reason, we are entering the season of Thanksgiving and if ever I had a period in my life that embraced the heart of Thanksgiving, this was the time. But in truth, the real reason it came to mind was because of the discussion I had with my two oldest grandchildren the other day when they were visiting. They are at the stage where, like so many of us, they are beginning to experience life’s questions. In sharing some answers it also led me to share this story about my House of Miracles.

You may wonder why would a house be granted such an honor to be considered full of miracles. Truthfully, it is not the structure itself, but rather everything attached to this special place and time in my life, and even how this home came to be, for it all came in the most unexpected package. And even though there was illness and many unanswered questions, there were people and events that cause me to now look back and be abundantly grateful. For as always, God’s hand was guiding and protecting; just as He is doing now. This special gift of a home was what He used to show us His faith through the hands and feet of others. And that is why I wanted to share this with you.

I’d like to invite you to this special place!

Grab a cup a coffee, and enjoy the view from the back porch as we visit my

HOUSE of MIRACLES.

Leaning up against the kitchen doorframe I stop to take another sip of coffee. My eyes begin to scan out past the porch and perennial garden to the rolling hillside in the distance. “Sometimes it is hard to believe…this really is our home!” Just a few years ago I could never have imagined living here. And at times, during this journey, I couldn’t even have imagined walking through this door to the back porch; at least on my own.

I have to smile as I think of our two big porches. To me, they were as important a part of this house as any room inside…maybe more. I love how they turned out with the beautiful grey stone and the welcoming white rockers. And just like the outside, the goal was to make this new home look older as if it had been built a century ago. Looking around the kitchen I still see the care and detail work that went into each of the hand-made cabinets and woodwork. Even my sewing room, with that big breezy window and extra room for painting gives me inspiration every time I walk through the door. But as much as I love and cherish all of these wonderful details they are truly only part of the structure. It was what went in to making this house a home that makes this place special, for it was built on a foundation of miracles.

As I continue to ponder and reflection takes hold, I step on through the screen door and sit down in one of the back-porch rockers. Leaning back, I recall the first meeting with our Amish builder. Even that day I knew this was somewhat of a miracle in the making because the design of this house was coming from years of accumulated magazine pictures, collected bits and pieces of house plans, and scraps of my own drawings. Sitting there that first day it was spectacular to watch this man, with all of his simplicity of dress and lifestyle, turn this heap of information into a set of full-fledged blueprints. I was in awe! And so began the first of many miracles to follow.

With great excitement we began the process of building our home. However, at that same time, a more invasive progression was also taking place. I was becoming less and less mobile.

Just a few years earlier, while going up a flight of steps, all of a sudden my legs could not support the climb. I had to pull myself up the stairs by grabbing the handrail in a hand over hand motion as I essentially dragged myself up the steps. This was the first of what was to be many episodes of deteriorating health and mobility. In reality this new chapter in my life required support just to move from one room to another. My new companions were my crutches, walker, and wheelchair. But mostly it required a dependence on other people, especially my husband, for the simplest of every day tasks. Along with the emotional and physical adjustments was the desire to know what was wrong, which required a revolving door of physical exams, hospital visits, and introductions to numerous specialists.

To be continued…

The Lord is my strength and shield. I trust Him with all my heart. He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy. I burst out in songs of thanksgiving. Psalm 28:7