I love this picture. I like the contrast of black to white. I like that the snow looks untouched. I like that the feet belong to me.
I've always hated the snow. I remember many cold years of carrying firewood into the house. I would, of course, put it off until the very last thing, and would end up stumbling through the cold, blowing wind with several armfuls of wood. In the...Pitch...Black...Night.
I guess thats another reason I love this picture. The snow seems different from what I remember as a child. It seems light and airy, rather than dark and cold. I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that I'm not carrying loads of wood into an already cold house. Oh, and that I'm no longer a teenager. We'll call it an attitude adjustment.
Its as if my feet have a clean slate. Any direction they walk, they will be the first footsteps. I like that idea. Its bold and a little unconventional.
It's been a long time since I've been home for 10 days. Its been even longer since I've been home for 10 days, NOT playing the role of wife and mom. It feels different this time. I think I know why.
I left New York over 21 years ago and never moved back. The interesting part to that story would be if there was some twisted reason behind my relocation. Its not about wanting to "get out of this place". In fact, its really more about the person I am because of this place.
It wouldn't be an accurate reflection unless I started at the beginning.
The Rev and Red #1 are the perfect parents for a girl like me. Growing up was WAY tougher than I would have preferred. I thought they had too many rules. I was a little "bold and unconventional" and thought I knew better. They had this amazing grace that reflected his love and mercy over my life, no matter how hard I pushed. They are truly the definition of servants for the kingdom. They would do anything, for anyone, at any time and I love that about them.
You read all about this guy earlier this week.
Since I usually have my own husband and kids when I'm here, I rarely get any QT with my brother and his boys. I truly love the one-on-one time with each of them. And yes, they are as crazy as they appear in the picture.
And then there's my great big Dutch family.
Quite simply, there is no place in this world that feels more like home than at The Willemsen Homestead. I posted about Austin Road earlier this week. My dad's brothers and sisters are eclectic, fun, and always make me feel so special. I am blessed to have distinct memories with each one of them. I am eternally grateful to my Uncle Brian for keeping the Homestead in the family. It will forever and ever be my home and a place I cherish.
Coming from a large family on both sides can be crazy and unpredictable.
Look at this beautiful lady. This is Catherine, my mom's mother. She is a woman of strength, raising 5 daughters and one crazy son. Those 6 children each have children of their own and those children have children (you're seeing a pattern here?). Its a great big ole family with a ton of STRONG women. You get my point? There's drama. There's care. This family fights hard and loves harder. Its hard to get everyone on the same page, but you undoubtedly feel their affection from miles away.
I believe the term "family" refers not only to those who share similar DNA.
I have many friends. I don't say that to brag. I am blessed and wouldn't ever take it for granted. There's something about friends that have known you most of your life. They remember every heartbreak, every dumb decision, and every bad hair style. They remember everything and they love you regardless. It would be easy to say thats why we're still friends, but it wouldn't be true. Of course the past is a great foundation, but its those moments where you're faced with the real adult things.
The loss of a child.
Marriage frustrations.
Financial woes.
Its during those times, you know this isn't a junior high friendship. These are real "big girls" problems and they need "big girl" support. I sure do have it with these ladies.
After a week in New York, I feel like I've been staring in the mirror for days.
The image in the mirror is new, but still the same. Its a collection of all of the people and places that have touched my life. The people who made me who I am.
“Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.”
― Sarah Dessen, What Happened to Goodbye
Until next time,
~ao
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