So, something has happened – something sparkling and silver as a sunrise breaking through cloud cover.

I fell in love with a house — a quiet, steady house, lovely and understated, with a soul for nurturing and a heart that yearns for forever. 

She’s an all-brick ranch, huddled into the hillside of an established, tree-lined neighborhood amidst a hodgepodge of other beautiful homes — gabled colonials, brick saltboxes, sanguine split levels, mid-century moderns. Our grand dame sits close to the base of the hill, a welcoming matriarch eager to pour smiles and love into our family.  

We stumbled upon her unexpectedly. Well, stumbled isn’t quite the word. God dropped us in front of her. He tossed us into her path, our promised land after wandering in the wilderness of my darkest year. We weren’t looking for her, but she found us still.

Whenever traffic is congested at the primary school during drop off, we often cut up the hill on Maple to sidestep the quagmire. As we climbed our way a couple weeks back, we spied a freshly planted FOR SALE sign in the front of this sweet-tempered beauty and were instantly smitten. We booked an appointment for that afternoon and had made an offer by that very night.

She’s a prize more precious than rubies and pearls, this beauty of ours. Comfort and joy made manifest. Light pours through her windows in thick, honeyed ribbons. Sweetness fills her spaces with echoes of the past and dreams of the future. Her flagstone front porch whispers “Come sit in my shade for a spell… or forever more.” And, indeed, she sings to us of a lifetime. Of a lifetime raising our boys to the beat of her heart; of holiday visits with my grown daughters and their families; of summertime vegetable plots and crisp autumn cookouts. 

We fell into her lap with an ease impossible outside of destiny. An impossible catch, but somehow caught. We didn’t do it; God did. He brought us to her and she opened her arms and all the moving pieces slipped into place like only the hand of the Divine can craft. She’s been easy like Sunday morning from the get go. And Heaven knows, I needed some easy.

It’s no secret its been a tough year for me. Dad passed away in November and his death has left me reeling. My siblings and I have been managing his estate. It has been a tender and painful process, sifting through all the bits and pieces (large and small) that were so much a part of his life and ours. Trying to decide what to sell and what to keep has torn at our hearts. Knowing others would be handling the tools he loved and tended, living inside the walls that sheltered him, driving the tractor and truck he so deeply prized… it has all been so very hard. 

There were days it felt so impossible and so – for lack of a better word – vulgar. People pawing over Dad’s things and us allowing it… like we were parceling off the life of our father to the highest bidder. 

Mike and I learned that this Maple Street home housed a similar story. Two daughters have been handling their parents’ estate, a recent double loss, participating in so many of the hard necessaries that we’ve been enduring. When we heard their story, we felt kindred spirits with both the heirs and the home that housed their most precious memories. We were drawn to their parallel tales of grief and beauty, and to the house and her sheltering, nurturing soul.

We knew for certain this was where our destiny lay.

She is indeed a grand dame, with strong bones and a good heart. Her grace and faithfulness has been well-documented in the lives of the family that has come before us. And today she’ll be ours. Today, she’ll begin bearing witness to our own family’s story.

I look forward to recording them with her.