I believe our homes are, or at least should be, a representation of ourselves. One’s home is one’s sacred space. It’s a place of refuge, comfort, peace, respect, happiness and joy. A home is a place where at anytime we can be ourselves. We can love, laugh, cry, sleep, work, create and dream. The structure and its contents are physical. The expressions, feelings, actions and emotions are spiritual. By living authentically in our physical space, I believe we can bring the spiritual into the physical.
My home is eclectic to say the least. The two of us have lived within its walls for the past 23 of our 25 years together. Our lives combined as one yet each can be their own expression. Expression both influenced yet independent of the other. A family created from within the walls. A family extending into the immediate neighborhood and greater community intertwined into the fabric of that community. Helping to create the colorful patchwork that is the village in which we live.
Like our own being …the expression must start from within to authentically, whole heartedly, extend outward as a representation of who we are, what we are, what we value and how we feel. The physical house, it’s contents, decor, furniture, pictures, art, fabrics, books, etc. should hold meaning for and represent a part of who we are. Through this expression we not only make a home for ourselves, but share ourselves with those who enter our home. Share ourselves as well with our neighbors as we enrich the fabric of community.
Nate Berkus expresses it well in this short video:
A couple weeks back, before the wonderful invasion of my family to our home, I posted about some maintenance we were doing to our big old house HERE. Someone, who reads Fearsome Beard regularly, commented on the stove in the photo of the kitchen. In that photo everything is covered up for re- painting, so I post a pic of that stove now so it can be seen and appreciated:
This stove was in the house when we purchased it 23 years ago. The day we moved it as we entered with our first box, the lady we had bought the house from was leaving with her last box. She was 78 years old and had purchased the home in 1959. She and her husband raised their 3 kids here. We stopped and chatted for a moment in the old kitchen. I don’t remember all that was said but I do remember her placing her hand on the stove and saying ” Of all the things about this house, I will miss this stove the most.”
She went on to briefly tell me the story of the stove. Apparently a neighbor down the alley had updated their kitchen at some point and had thrown it out into the alley. She made her husband go get it and bring it in. The stove was an expression of her, she rescued it from its fate of the dump and shared her love with her family through cooking their meals on it. I used it for years and finally found a company that restores vintage stoves from the ground up. It wasn’t a cost efficient endeavor, but an endeavor that brought new life to an object that expressed an elderly ladies love. Today it’s now part of me and my expression of love to all those I share my cooking with. Someday, after I leave this home for another, I’ll miss it too but today I enjoy it.
I love our home. I love us. I love our life. I love our dogs we share it with daily. May your home be as blessed as ours is.