The Wedding

Its been a while since I have written. I have been going through so much change. I feel as though I’ve been on a rollercoaster of emotions. That’s typical of my life. But this year has been an exceptional year in so many ways.

My Daughter got married Saturday to her best friend. It was a beautiful wedding. I think it was the most elegant wedding that I have ever been too. It left me filled with so much joy knowing my daughter is truly happy.

My daughter, Crystal is like this free spirit that you can’t hold back. She reaches and attains what she wants. But she never stops reaching. She’s amazing.

 

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Linda

Not just a house but so much more!

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Home, it’s here, right here where it’s always been before it was even a whisper in a

builders heart. There was a purpose to it just as there is to everything in life. In his

labored hands,  he knew not the reason but  he was impelled to bring a purpose upon it

toward the future for which it now resides and for  all the seasons down through

time.

Herein dwells the most amazing stories of life and love and loss.

It’s not a big house, instead, a humble one that carried the cries of newborn eyes and its

walls were arms that held them tight. The house was a holding place for testing out trials

and receiving joy.

Never was there a kindness given without the essence of receiving.

The curtains absorbed the laughter and shared it with the wind blowing through the

windows on a springtime day.

A ray of light still shines upon sentimental trinkets roaming the atmosphere of this space

A mothers comfort for a skinned knee still echoes softly throughout this home.

One can still see the evidence of loved little creatures whose names are spelled in silence.

With every desire there is a cost but within this place it’s all free.

This house still hears the remembrance of every knock on the door, every picture

hanging

from the walls and the footsteps still left behind, captured and stored within.

How can a house hold so much memory for so long and not spill over and out onto the

land? Each memory sprinkled like freshly fallen snow?

Captured within  here, are the tender hearts of children, reaching for life that is still

laid out before them untold.

It stretches far and wide and it crosses years and lives of old. What is held within a house

is the heart that is beating for another success in life. Just one more child to grow and

one more story to be told.

Still here are the harmonious sounds of goals attained and rewards given.

Herein lies the truth about life and death and growing old.

Within the veins of this humble holding, lies the beautiful unfolding of everything,

everything! Even that to which is still unknown.

A house can capture a heart and you can even hear it singing

from the walls. Gently, ever so gently, like the breath of a child that lays sleeping and

dreaming about tomorrow. Within this house, there is always tomorrow. Whatever pain

that left a trace of fear was calmed by the love that was shared and the courage that was

made to continue on an on. Life is not a journey to an end, for there is so much more. So

much more to learn and grow and inspire and even to leap with excitement over the

tiniest accomplishments written on the doors. The news of these days never faded away

but is still in tune with morning routines, like breakfast lade out on the table and made

with love and a shout that still rings, the bus is coming. You must not miss it.

There are echoes here of scribbled papers and golden stars that were given for a job well

done.

Beautiful insights are captured in a mothers journal late at night.

In writing she treasured pink ribbons, marbles or a butterfly or two which belonged to

her children that she held so dear.

How beautiful a place that lets a journey

live on in other lives and other homes. Those homes that grow and live and cry.  They cry

out with endless tears of endearment. It never ends. They think it does but it was

purposed to never end. Life passes from one heart to another and there is one tear that

is shed to remember and to never forget from where it came. I tiny house can hold a

mountain within if it is given the chance to thrive. This house still stands

because it is cherished and it was labored in love and hope for the future. It’s tiny little

windows kept out the cold and held the promise of another day and another and

another.

From one wish that stretched a lifetime,  stills grows and still sings its joyful tune. You

can’t reside within this home and not know that. You can’t grow up without ever

knowing how much you were loved and cherished and treasured. A house is a home for

just moments in the steam of time but the memories all connect from one generation to

another and from one tiny house forward the prospects for success. Take just one step

and you have turned a page in this story that spreads out a carpet that leads to promises

kept and rewarded and honored. A house is not just a house but family interchanged and

so tightly connected. One should let go and yet still hold on reaching and growing with

every step and motion. It’s the child-like cry of a wounded knee and the captured

comfort from loving care that keeps this story going on without end. The people do not

own this house it is owned by love and commitment and perseverance, hard work and

prayer. This joy within is where the plates were once sitting upon those frilly little

placements that used to hold so much emotion. It could tell its own stories. It’s just the

steps taken every day, on and on and on without let-up or disappointment or getting lost

in confusion or pain. A house can only hold what you give it, whether tender care or fear.

It can be angry and scary but it can be beautiful and enduring as well. We make our

homes to live in but our homes carry us through our lives, always connecting hearts to

hearts and spirits to the wind with a careful course and a purpose What our hearts cannot

contain is held in the cupboards and the drawers and anywhere really, that memories

can be stored. They are just there waiting to be discovered by another family and

another life and another journey. One can leave home and never forget where they grew

up and the trials and tribulations of that day. I do know that here within my house, our

house, our home, there will always live generations beyond these doors and much love

more and more.

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Linda