Home

Caity’s adventure in singing finished with the two of us deciding it didn’t make sense on many levels for me to fly down to Texas for two days for graduation. She was going to be exceptionally busy with performances, honors convocation had happened two weeks earlier when even she couldn’t go because of a scheduling conflict, and the final hurrah was to be in a stadium that seats fifty five thousand , she would be far far away on one end in the choir, and it was predicted to be between 95 and 100 degrees.

So I stayed home and continued to unpack. My goal was to have all the furniture in place in the new house. By the end of the weekend it was beginning to feel like home. Real home. Two weeks later I swapped the blonde creative desk with the dark brown business desk so they were both in functional positions and put the printer on the newly angled filing cabinet. I am home. Finally.

Home before the Island was 331 NE 53rd in Seattle. A small house from the front, it was actually a huge 3500 square foot three story home that we filled with an intensity of life that was unique. Birth/adoptive families have special rhythms and character.

The house was purchased with a trust fund from my aunt, the same fund that was sending my then husband to school . The deal was that at the end of his schooling my mom, who was the executer of the estate would sell it to us for whatever was left on the mortgage. In 1991 that was going to be $80,000; down from $119,000 at the time of purchase. You remember those days don’t you? A five bedroom home in the Greenlake corridor for $119,000? Note to self. Don’t tell unmedicated bi polar mom who holds the purse strings she has to go get some help. She yanked the deal.

I was a homemaker and a student then. The adoption agency required one parent be home full time. Life was going to begin again for my own personal gain when Caity, the youngest, graduated from high school. Creating a home was my art form. I believe the job of a mother is to know her children so well she supports the highest and best vision of who they can be until they can hold it for themselves. It’s sheer joy for me. Hard work, but sheer joy. It always has been no matter where they were/are living. I have held the vision of the highest and best for each of my kids in my heart to this day.

What’s inside a house that makes it a home ought to reflect that goal.

True, I haven’t known what to do with people who interrupt that process. It was a blind spot of mine. And it certainly smacked me out of nowhere when I moved with the kids to the Island. I know now. You pierce the heart of evil with Love. Finding a home is part of that.

I found the new 331 inadvertently this past January. I had a choice of three very different living situations in three completely different places on the Island. I wasn’t sure of my ability to choose wisely. I’ve gotten myself into some doozies of circumstances because of my naiveté. I didn’t want to have that happen again. I kept saying, “You choose” to God because the last time I did that I ended up at the beach and healed in mighty ways. I found my center and my strength again.

But God apparently wanted to see if I could now live in that strength. There was only silence in response to my demand.

After six weeks of careful deliberation I chose door number three. The dated maple trim and cupboards of the seventies, the floor plan with the eat in kitchen and the pony wall, the office space with a view, the bedroom that could handle a king size, and the toy room was so familiar. “Why do I feel so comfortable here?” I would ask myself in the middle of the moving chaos. Then I realized it has all the parts of 331 I loved and that served the kids well.

I look forward to the day all of my children come to this home with their children and are together again in a too small converted bedroom that is called a toy room. The books are there from their childhood, the board games, the jig saw puzzles, the art supplies, the TV, the small stereo. All crammed in together for them to make new memories and their children to enjoy. Home.

C S Lewis said, when you get lost, go back to the last spot where you knew where you were. I would add, but face towards the future. This is like the house we left when we were all home together. But it’s on our favorite family spot on the Island. Something new.

Home is where they root for your highest and best. Home is where they know who you were, who you are, and who you can be and love you unconditionally. If you do not have a home, I hope you find one. If you are in charge of creating one, embrace the job with passion. There is no higher calling.
Love
Deborah