People like to talk about the house that built them;
what it looked it like,
how many bedrooms it had,
whether or not it had a pool or a basement,
how long they lived there,
the storms it withstood,
the seasons it saw
and perhaps, most notably, how it smelled.
But, me, I like to think and talk about
the people that built me
-- the people who continue,
year after year,
to build me into who God intended me to be,
and not just that,
but continue to build me up.
like my mom,
who made that house smell as it did with her amazing cooking;
like my sister,
whose bedroom I would always invade;
like my brother, who I had the most fun with in the pool;
like my dad, who wanted our home to be a place we wanted to be, not one that bored us;
like my whole family who has ridden out many a season and real hurricanes and plenty of personal 'seasons' and storms together...
and, now, a pandemic, too.
I get it, though.
I do get that the homes we grow up in will forever be etched in our memories.
But more than I
or do appreciate any of the homes I have ever lived in,
I value and cherish the human beings I've been blessed to live with.
That house that built you is cool,
but those people that built you,
the same ones that continue to
stand with you,
laugh with you,
cry with you,
and just be with you,
even though you're no longer together in the house that built you,
they're pretty effing fantastic, too, and surely worth talking about.
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