Space Enough For Everyone

My entire adult life I have been proud of the fact I was a renter. Fortunately Matthew wasn't overly concerned with home ownership either. The upsides of renting deserve mention. Leaky roofs don’t require shelling out thousands of dollars for replacement. Water heater gone kaput? Call the landlord. Honestly, I wore it like a badge of honor: a rebel under lifelong lease. (Insert listless sounding music here.)  The only condition under which I imagined myself purchasing a home would require me to live in Minnesota - my home, certainly not Colorado Springs.

Then one random Sunday our pastor gave a sermon on putting down roots, on “blooming where you are planted.” Matthew leaned over to me in the middle of the sermon and said something along the lines of, “I think I needed to hear this, there’s something I have been thinking we should change.” My response? A whisper along the lines of, "&%$@$," you want to buy a house don't you?" Yes, I uttered profanity in church, in the middle of a sermon. (It was only a whisper in the ear of my spouse so I am pretty sure Jesus didn't hear.)

Over the next several days as I pondered, none of the heart-thumping-heaviness that occurs when a particular path is not meant for me arose. Instead, I recognized our children need a permanent place; a place with roots, a home they can be assured mom and dad will always be, a place they can daydream about bringing their children to. As much as it pained me, I understood Minnesota was no longer in the cards. It was time to make a new home.

Quickly we chose a Realtor and house hunting began. It’s nothing like they portray on HGTV, so after only two times out we made a decision and an offer. I had pictured us living in a cozy bungalow downtown, but after a day of cruising zillow.com concluded that the day we went from zero to four children overnight we also unknowingly decided against a cozy bungalow downtown. Our house was bigger and in an area of town I couldn't have foreseen, but for our family it’s perfect, with space enough for everyone.

We Fryes are each so unique with varied interests and temperaments which need room to breathe and be acknowledged. Love to Nurture planted in our hearts the idea of focusing on those strengths and celebrating them. Sometimes growth necessitates space.

We needed to meet Gabriel where he flourishes, his virtual worlds where he triumphs and leads. A family computer lab lets us join him there. Matthew needed a movie viewing space to share the films he so dearly loves with his children. Des needed her own spacious bedroom for an introverts retreat. Izzy needed a yard to play in and access to bike paths - outlets for all her energy. Audrey needed a cozy living room to curl up with a good book in. And me? I needed a spacious kitchen with a vantage point to watch everyone come and go, smiling as I listen to their conversations. And with this house, we were able to accommodate all those things. 

Different than I had thought, but perfect.

There Are a Million Reasons Not to Dance in the Rain…

Colorado’s monsoon season has arrived, and each evening we look forward to a short lived deluge of rain and the cool air it brings. Several nights ago I decided to sit in a lawn chair under the cover of my garage, open up the door and listen to the rain. I wasn't sitting long before my youngest daughter, Isabel joined me.

Izzy is the most like me of all my children- she helps God refine me. Gregarious and active, Izzy only stood for a few minutes before she noticed the small, quick moving streams of water running down the center of our cul-de-sac. “Can I go play in those puddles over there?” she asked. “I’m worried about the lightning.” I replied. Always the negotiator, Izzy asked if she could play in the driveway, out of the cover of the awning.

My gut reaction was to say no. I tried calculating the probability of her getting hit by lightning, checking out the nearby trees. I imagined her soaking wet and traipsing through the house afterward, getting water everywhere in a space I struggle desperately with to keep clutter free and sane-feeling- an ongoing war. I feared she would get chilled and catch a cold, it wasn't that warm anymore. I dreaded her siblings joining her, and multiplied the potential mess by four. I envisioned what our neighbors across the street would think of me as a parent- careless. I shuddered at the thought of the extra laundry, and her bare feet getting filthy on the pavement. In the flash of a second I thought of all these things.

Then I realized that there are a million reasons to say no to your child playing in a rainstorm, there always will be. But there’s really only one reason to say yes.

I said yes. And she danced. And she played. And I watched- smiling.