You Don’t Need a Perfect House to Make a Perfect Home

It’s not much to look at from the outside. The paint is faded, the driveway is cracked, and the garden is dead (again). But if you come inside with me, I think you’ll see much more than a tired little house.

Watch your step as you come in. My husband carried me through this doorway when we bought this place ten years ago. We were still newlyweds, fresh-faced with bright eyes, and we were ready to conquer the world.

If you walk down the hall and peek into the first room on the left, you’ll see the walls we spent hours preparing for our first baby. I must have sampled eight different shades of sky blue to find just the right one. The shade tree and flower garden murals are the products of aching arms and full hearts as we dreamed of a sweet new life.

Throw open the window there, and you’ll see the hydrangeas lining the fence. I can’t believe how big they’ve grown. Every year, I look forward to their cheerful blue and purple blossoms. We fill our house with summer when we bring them in, as many as we can carry. Every household object becomes a potential vase.

Across the hall are the shower tiles that held me up one cold Sunday morning when my beautiful, feisty Mamaw went home to glory. She fought an all-out street brawl against cancer, and did so with classy southern grace. My heart has never known such a deep ache as when I had to wake up in a world without her in it.

In the backyard is the playground we inherited when another family’s kids left childhood behind. With tears in their eyes, they set it up for our toddler son and told us to cherish the memories we were sure to make. We made our first memory there when we plopped Caleb on the swing and told him he was going to be a big brother.

Back in the kitchen is the floor that caught me at rock bottom. That was the year we were putting my husband through nursing school, our daughter was entering the fun two-year-old season, our bank account was always empty, bills were always piling up, my son was diagnosed with autism, and I was diagnosed with a couple of autoimmune disorders. I was sobbing on the floor right here when I learned that while it’s true God does indeed give us more than we can handle, we were never meant to handle it on our own. He’s always with us, and He used that time to teach me the importance of community.

Here in the living room is where I sat my husband down and surprised him with two pink lines and a third arrow for the old quiver. That was when we figured out that each person’s quiver is a different size and can be considered happily “full” at different points. We spent the evening praying together and reflecting on our sweet blessings sleeping in the next room.

For ten years, we did life in this house. It always seemed so short on space, and yet it held so much love and life. This past week, we looked around the empty rooms, turned off the lights, and closed the door on a decade full of memories. As I followed the moving truck up I-75 to a new state and a new job, I had time to reflect.

Granite countertops and garden tubs are wonderful. Shiny new floors and pristine appliances would be a dream come true. But when it comes right down to it, walk-in closets and double garages are not what make a great house. It’s love. [Tweet “Love can make any little house a big, beautiful home.”]

Ashley Doyle Pooser is a wife and a mom of three. She recently moved to Atlanta, where she’s trying her best to be a responsible adult but feels like she’s mostly flying by the seat of her pants. She blogs at ashleydoylepooser.com.