On Winter & Building a Home

I get really excited this time of year when the weather starts changing…for good. Virginia is perfect for a soul with an affinity for overcast skies, brisk winds & well worn in maroon leaves falling to the ground.

w i n t e r .

You are settling in, and I am glad.

Although you’ll find me under a blanket within a 3 foot radius of a candle at all times, I do love the cold. Promise. My skin just has different preferences.

I think there is a part in a lot of us that romanticizes with this season. It brings with it a certain feeling. And I’m not just talking about everyone’s stomach after too much of grandma’s famous apple pie. (And for the record, I realize it’s not winter quite yet, but read along with me if you will) —

There’s an essence of stillness & solitude winter brings which summer fails to.

We often look at winter as the culprit of our boredom because its harsh bite of 22 degree nights forces us in. While summer lures us to go out and be under her sun, the cold causes us to run toward the warm, the familiar, the inside. Winter brings with her a journey deeper into ones soul with it’s space for introspection & solitude.

Winter begs us to be still because sometimes that is all we can do in it. And this is where I find myself tonight.

It’s where I found myself last night, too. We put up our Christmas tree and I created our very first “Christmas corner” in our city apartment. My husband rested and let me create something “us” with what we had. I was a little giddy, to say the least.

IT’S OUR FIRST MARRIED CHRISTMAS. How can I not be?

Sometimes I crack myself up with how thrilled I get about the slightest change of decoration in our home. We don’t go out and buy a ton of things to add to our apartment, so I get to creatively tweak things little by little and it’s so very fun.

There will be nights when Peter comes home and all I have changed is the placement of a candle and the picture in a frame. Enthusiasm spills out when I go to show him. He is so supportive, ya’ll. He smiles sweet and tender at this excitement springing up in me over a tiny change.

I love this road of making our home a little bit more “us.”

/ / / / / / / / / / / /

This morning between sips of coffee and bites of chicken sausage, I paused at the fourteenth chapter of Proverbs, verse one.

The wise woman builds her house

but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down.

In a past post, I wrote on the pressure to have it all, be it all and look it all as a wife. Along with those thoughts, this idea of building a home has intrigued me for some time now.

Building a home means far more than the surface we often sit at — where it harmonizes with decorating and cleaning and making Pinterest dinners and having it all look just like we want it.

I’ve got to loosen my grip on that.

Although they have importance and it’s a way I love to create (decorating, setting a table, etc) — building a home is far richer than this.

It’s a calling as a wife and a calling for my husband.

The wise woman builds her house alongside her man. They both bring their strengths to the table and break bread together. They commune with God separately and in unity. Brick by brick they build a home of rest, a home of peace, a home of whimsical laughter and timeless fun. A home where Jesus abides and Jesus reigns and is the home’s source of strength.

So this winter you can find me here. Inside this home we’re building. Next to the man of integrity and honor I vowed my life to. Beside others who need a warm place to rest with their worn out wills and worn in regrets.

Welcome, winter.

Welcome, home.

x o .