I was looking through old photos this evening when I first saw this one, I thought it was Tim holding Baby E, but no, it’s Big E. This was during our farmhouse days- I recognize the chair and the green wall.

One of our neighbors when we lived in the farmhouse was a woman in her nineties that had actually been born in our house. She would see us taking walks in the evenings and she would invite us into her home. She would talk and talk, telling us the history of her family and the area, while game shows played on the tv in the background. Nearly every wall in her house was covered with pictures and news articles about President Obama and his family. She was so proud to have a black president.

As she talked about our farmhouse she would get a glint in her eye, she was so proud of it. The house was originally just two rooms. Her family had always been a landowning black family, which was rare during her childhood, and the house has been a place of pride. Her parents raised seven children in those two rooms, eventually adding the two rooms above, to make a total of four rooms. You could tell where the original wood stove had been in the house, and the back stairs were just the type you would imagine from a house built in the early 1900’s. As the years went on they added more rooms which eventually included indoor bathrooms, a dining room, and a basement kitchen. By the time we moved in, it was a mishmash of decades that exuded character from every corner.

The house sat on a lovely hill, and our neighbor would talk about the roaming farmland that had sloped away from it. Not much was farm land any more, and houses dotted the landscape. Everyone in the small neighborhood were descendants of that family except for us. It was fun to listen to them recount their memories of visiting their grandmother in that house growing up.

I never loved the house. It was a challenging place to live, but I always appreciated its history and stories. It was unusual and had character. We spent two years in that little farmhouse, which my kids remember as someplace magical. We had a small garden. We took long walks nearly every night. We greeted the stone animals that populated the ends of the driveways. The kids sped down the grass hill in their Cozy Coupes.

I brought Baby E home from the hospital to that house. For that reason alone, there I have a soft spot for it.

Well, I should probably draw this ramble to a close. Tim just popped up in bed and asked me if it was time to get up. “No honey, it’s time to go to sleep!”

Thank you again for your prayers and well wishes. I’d like to say that each day gets better, but this journey isn’t very linear. Some days are better than others. Today was an okay day. Tonight I’m incredibly grateful for the people God has brought into my life that I can reach out to, without embarrassment or shame, when I’m have a rough moment (or hour or day. ) They are truly a godsend.