Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Hunting for Home

I recently met three of my young gal pals for coffee and a bagel in a cozy chain restaurant.  I'm always amused and greatly flattered that they include me in their invitations exclaiming, "We don't think of you as old!"  Funny thing since I'm in the same generation with their moms.  I listened as they discussed the possibility of having another baby, the dynamics of disturbing their current family cocoon and the perils of potty training.  I sipped my creamy coffee and recalled with warmth those busy days in my home. When burping cloths adorned my shoulder and My Little Pony panties charmed a training toddler.

Currently, those small children that kept me continually in a dizzying pace are now young adults and seeking a place to call their own.  My daughter, 26, just signed a one year lease for her first apartment.  She's full of excitement. Scouring websites for furniture and shower curtains, wondering how her budget will survive, deciding which wall color to choose and who to invite over first. It's a test in balance. Balancing needs and wants, friends and time, work and play and how often to head to Mom and Dad's.  I'm enjoying her anticipation.  It reminds me of days when possibilities seemed countless and life stretched so far ahead.  She'll do well.  And if we're lucky, she'll invite us over for pasta and I'll smile at the warm candles welcoming us on her table.

Our son is sleeping on a couch.  Not ours.  He wants to live in Nashville and test his dreams in music.  Along with two college buddies from the area, he lived in a wonderful renovated house downtown.  Great house, lousy neighborhood.  After one break-in (which was costly for the roomies), one attempted break-in and 2 cars with windows smashed in 2 separate incidents on the same night - they packed up and moved out.  So, for seven weeks, my twenty-two year old musician has been in his words a "gypsy" living out of his car and sleeping on a couch.  It's not that they haven't looked.  But, it's February and seven colleges in the area are still in session, so the rentals are all full.  I know that as the snow melts and temps rise, so will his chances of finding the right place.  Still, a mom hates thinking about lumpy couches cradling her kid, no matter the age.  And, it doesn't help when he texted today that he's sick.  I reminded him of the box of chicken noodle soup I sent in his last "care package".  Love in a box.

Transitions.  They can be rough at times or smooth sailing.  They're never predictable.  As they leave, I long to be the mom who hugs with a twinkling eye that says "I believe in you. Enjoy the adventure God has for you ahead." But, as I hear the door close, a piece of my heart will be still. Although both of them are looking for a place to call theirs, I'm hoping they will still think of this house when they long for home. This one has the real chicken noodle soup and a mom who's always waiting at the door.


  1. Jilli4:33 PM

    Well I didn't know you had a blog!!!! I loved this post. :) especially since I am honored to be one of those 3 girlfriends and yes, you are still one of "us". :) Congrats to K on the apartment! How exciting!! All the whole reading your post I kept thinking of the song by Miranda Lambert, The House that Built Me. There's always something so special about coming "home." While i enjoy having my parents here now, I miss sometimes the old house on Pine Tree Dr where I rode my bike and my favorite dog is indeed buried in the back yard. But honestly, no matter the home, it really is the Mama (and Daddy) that we come home to. It doesnt matter if we're 31 and a Mom ourselves, going "home" is a haven that you can always be 6 again if you want to be. Love you Wendie!!!!!

  2. I'm flattered too! That was our wonderful breakfast and Wendie, I so love spending time with you. Your children are so fortunate to have your home and you to come home to. I find myself longing for the days of my youth when extended family was abundant and close and my most important decision was who to take to the Sadie Hawkins Dance. I hope that my children grow up cherishing the memories we're making now. More than that, I pray that they'll always know how important they are to me and how many talks I have with God about how to be the mom he created me to be. Love your blog! Keep 'em coming!

  3. beautifully said Wendie...I feel your heart:) no worries...they'll always come "home"...doesn't matter where home is...they'll come:)

  4. Wow! What awesome talent!
    Wish I could write like that. I do know I have my own talents... just not sure what they are sometimes.
    My kids are still home, 14 & 16, but it won't be long before I'll be thinking those same things. I pray I will have the same outlook you do!

  5. Wendie - what a blessing you are to your family and your friends. I loved reading your blog - I know your kids will always feel safe and loved and cared for when they come "home". And always remember they take you and Mike and their memories of "home" wherever they go, and those memories will help them form their own "home:. Love you!