Love is primarily giving.

... this is how I've come to love my home & the work in it

I like to think of myself as a tidy person. I put the lid back on the milk, fold the clothes that tuck into my drawers, and am generally well-groomed. Much like my mother, and her mother before her, I come from a line of woman that choose to take pride in their homes. Time and energy are devoted to seemingly menial tasks, like dusting light fixtures and clipping dead leaves off house plants. It makes sense in our book to devote oneself to such tasks.

Because my mother kept her home in much the same way that I do, perhaps I hold the state of the home a bit higher than most in our culture. Though my mother has always worked outside the home, Friday’s were her day to be totally devoted to the house. This meant that after school, we would come home to a stocked refrigerator, mopped floors, new hand towels, coffee in the pot, and supper simmering on the stove.

I realize that this may not be the world’s idea of success or high-living (flashy cars and gigantic bank accounts are quite captivating, after all) but looking backwards, I can see now how our ordinary and average family life was, in fact, quite extraordinary.

It was simple. We lived within our means and we loved each other.

Though the few piles left littered around the floor from the holiday weekend may convince one otherwise, I find myself again and again turning my heart towards my home - towards delighting in its vitality and order.

This isn’t because life isn’t naturally a bit scruffy, stained, and untidy on the edges, but because of what happens when I give my devotion to a quiet, well-stocked, calm, savored existence in the home.

For example…