The Yellow House

The yellow house we call home, is older than John, Summer Kate and I, all combined. Before moving to Jacksonville, we drove out to this property that was available for rent, and I knew that we had found the right place for this time. The day we moved, it was an extremely hot, Florida, summer day.  Our amazing family drove over and moved us in one day. Did I mention it was hot? Like, HOT. We got the moving truck over to Jacksonville and our church family helped us put all the boxes in the shed and we the furniture in the house. My dad and I were setting up a bedroom whenever the sky opened up and it began to flood. Literally, the things we had JUST unloaded from the moving truck to the shed, flooded. I looked at Dad and he just laughed, which made me laugh, he always knows how to calm me. My mother in love was sweeping out water and moving things to higher ground, our landlord digging a trench around the shed, we were all moving like crazy. My mom was steady working, I’m sure praying, in true Mama Kay fashion. It was then that the yellow house taught me that what matters most were the people around me in that moment, not the things around me. Those THINGS could get ruined in a moment and life would go on. As I thought back to that day, it made me think of a few other things this past year has taught (is teaching) me…

The yellow house taught me that you don’t have to have it all together, to have people together. We were hardly moved in and we were having people over over for dinner, or popping over just to hang. The yellow house taught me that community and letting people in our lives (even when it’s far from perfect) matters more than having it all together. Home is where my people are.

The yellow house taught me that even though I don’t have the latest decor up in my house, that every piece that is up represents someone or something special to me. The quilt on the spare bed is the same quilt from her one year photos on the beach and the same quilt that she opened her presents on at her second birthday, it’s just becoming more and more special to me every year. That quilt, that was just a blanket, now has meaning. The frame in Summer’s room, with seashells glued to the bottom are the shells we collected on her first birthday.  I love looking over on my nightstand to the huge seashell my dad picked for me one summer vacation and the table runner on our dresser from our wedding.  The decorations hung in the living room, my Father in Law built, a friend from Louisiana took one of the pictures, a friend from Louisiana made the frame, my best friend gave me the photo of the world that says “GO” reminding me wherever we find ourselves and wherever we go, God commands us to go and make, wooden decor from a first mission’s trip, another handmade “T” from our aunt and uncle. The picture of John and I praying before our wedding day placed somewhere we will both look everyday to remind us that what God joined together, let no one tear apart. One day I will fill our home with new pieces, but for now I find joy looking at all of the things that take my mind back to the people who made them. All of these things make this house, our home.

The yellow house taught me to BE. To rest. To enjoy life. To value people over perfection. The yellow house taught me to be content.

The yellow house taught me to be more intentional. Those free times at home? Facetime a friend that’s on my heart. Take every moment to love the people God has so graciously placed in my life. Whenever someone says they need to talk, tell them to come on over, and we will solve all the problems over prayer and folding laundry together.

The yellow house taught me that quirkiness makes us, us, and to embrace it.

The yellow house has taught me and is still teaching me to be a better person. I can only imagine all the history this yellow house has and we are just a small part of it’s story. My daughter loves her “home.” She will look at me and say, “I home. I stay heeere” or she will say, “I want ____ at my home.” She always wants to have her friends/family over and that fills my heart with joy. I pray she always finds it normal to have people over and know we will make the room for others to come. I love that whenever people walk in they say they feel like they’re at home. I will always look back and remember the candlelit date nights on our front porch, my daughter taking her first steps in the living room, having her little friends over to play and so much more. It may seem like a simple time, but it’s a full time. My heart overflows with gratefulness.

The people behind every life moment are the true treasures in life…and I feel like the richest girl in the world.