House Keepers and the like

I was on my fourth Swiffer of the afternoon and was wondering about what makes a house a home - some families I know have spotless, shiny homes...everything has a place (and actually is in it!).  Others seem to be slowly fading away under dirt, hair and neglect.  But where is ours? Some would argue that we've been taken over by farm stuff, work stuff, Lego and other 'things' and that could be true.

The animals bring their own space, and trust me nothing shrinks a house quicker than four Border Collies and a hundred plus pound Great Pyrenees.  They bring dirt, dust and hair.

The farm brings it's own goodies such as manure, dried good stuff from cows, horses and ducks, miscellaneous tools and repair supplies.

We love to create, read and play together so we have books scattered about in wild abandon, laundry doesn't always stay put, clean or dirty. Shoes migrate from one door to another.

Yes, the house isn't super clean, but we aren't going to be condemned either.  There is food for the table, there are linens on the beds and clothes in the closets.  We have high tech and low tech and all that is in between but I'd have to say the biggest thing that fills our house is:

Love! Laughter! Joy! Family! Sharing! Faith!

I wouldn't trade those for the cleanest house in the world, I wouldn't trade them for the biggest house in the world or anything else.  Those are the things that make a house a home!

So I'll be hanging this up where people can see it, and know that I'm not a great house keeper, my Grandma would most likely be ashamed.  Her lovely western end tables and coffee tables are perfect for Lego, reading, driving Matchbox and Hotwheels cars. They fit our little boy fine for snacks and activities.  They are loved.

I have dust, you can write in it if you wish, but please don't put down a date!  That is just so tacky.  I have dust bunnies, take some home, they are great quiet pets.  I have sand all sumer and snow melted puddles all winter and in the shoulder seasons we have great mixtures of mud, paw prints and boot tracks.

My windows have nose, paw and hand prints on them from watching birds, horses and cows.  So does the TV.  Everything has been cleaned, many many times, but it doesn't stay clean because our house is a lived in, worked on, played in and busy place.

I can only dream of a day when the dust fears me, when the dust bunnies flee in a tidy panic, when the dishes solemnly and obediently wash and dry themselves, when the clothes in an orderly fashion find their way down dirty and back up again clean.  Until then I know my wash machine will be a saw horse or paint table, that my stove top will serve to make cookies and snail bread with clouds of flour and splashes of waffle mix.  That my doors will store behind them all sorts of tools and stray project bits.

That's okay because this is where we live, love and laugh. This is where we pray, cry, sleep and share. This is our home, imperfect and not new, and it is okay by me. Come by sometime for a visit, the cups are clean and so are the spoons...we'll enjoy the sunroom or the deck.