The House That Built Me

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Have you ever noticed that there seems to be a country song for every situation in life? My grandmother’s house is quite different than the one in Miranda Lambert’s song “The House that Built Me,” but it has had a significant impact on my life. It may seem strange to write about a house in North Carolina for a blog created for moms in Birmingham, Alabama. But, I recently helped clean out this home as my grandmother prepared to move to an independent living facility, and I drove away with a full yet broken heart.

My last visit to my grandparents' home
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The “Big Girls Club” members

In our mobile society, it is becoming increasingly rare to see family homes that have withstood generations. My grandparents moved into their house after their first anniversary and spent the remaining 61 years of their marriage there. It is the home they brought my mother and my aunt home to from the hospital, the home where they hosted many church groups, and the home their extended family returned to year after year for Christmas (I have only missed Christmas there twice in my life), Thanksgiving, and the Fourth of July. They finished the basement when  grandchildren came along and my cousin dubbed the bedroom the “Big Girls Club” where three of us slept in single beds and told stories for nearly 20 years. I learned to tie my shoes in the living room. I learned to hit a golf ball in the yard. And I realized that I wanted to marry my (now) husband while sitting on the back porch. This home was never my address, but it is very much the house that built me because it contained the people who shaped who I am. 

Legacy

In this house, I learned what true love looks like. Not just the romantic version of love (although my parents were high school sweethearts), but love that provides selfless care, patience, service, and gratitude. I watched my grandfather listen to my grandmother whenever she wanted to talk. I experienced them both loving each member of our family specifically and specially, whether it was a birthday phone call or a card sent to our college P.O. Box. I watched my grandmother support my grandfather through numerous heart and knee surgeries and care for him through cancer treatments. And I watched our family hold each other up as we grieved his passing on Thanksgiving Day. We aren’t a perfect family. But, I do hope to continue the legacy of love that started with my grandparents.

My grandparents on their first anniversary
My favorite picture of my grandparents

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Traditions

My extended family now consists of 21 members with one on the way, and over time we have developed a number of traditions, some meaningful and some crazy. These traditions include things like building human pyramids in our Christmas pajamas, playing “hot potato” with leftover kabobs to get rid of excess food, family photo shoots the day after Christmas, and backyard fireworks on the Fourth of July. But we also have traditions of challenging one another by sharing lessons we have learned each year and encouraging one another by providing our “Secret Santa” recipient with a Bible verse to build them up. The important thing about all of these traditions is that we are together. Through my extended family, I was taught to prioritize time together, and I have seen blessings overflow from our time spent with each other.

It’s a crazy bunch

Lessons

As I mentioned, my family made a habit of sharing the lessons we learned each year. So, I want to share the lessons I learned from a little old house in Yadkinville, North Carolina.

  • Love is not just a warm fuzzy feeling; it is patience, persistence, and grace in good times and bad.
  • Cousins can be the siblings you don’t fight with because you don’t live together. 
  • Traditions can teach our children about the importance of quality time with family.
  • A family photo is worth more than 1,000 words. 
  • Sometimes “stuff” is more than just “stuff” when it holds sweet memories.

As we cleaned out my grandmother’s house, we each took items that we wanted to keep. I came home with a toy box, some depression glass, and my grandmother’s cake pan among other items. None of these things have substantial monetary value. But, when my son opens up the toy box, I see myself pulling out toys at Grandma’s. When I walk past the glass in my china cabinet, I am reminded of the women who displayed it before me. And when I bake a coconut cake (using my grandmother’s recipe) in that pan, I pray that I love people half as well as my grandmother does. 

It is her love, and the love my grandfather displayed, that keeps us coming back year after year (multiple times a year). I know that not everyone has an extended family to spend time with. But, if you do, make that time a priority. Your children can learn so much from your effort. If your extended family is not a part of your life, invest that time in the other generations around you (I have adopted grandparents in Birmingham since mine live so far away). And cultivate love in your home so that it is a place your grandchildren can come back to.