A State of Disrepair

I can always begin to tell when Spring is getting near.  The sun begins to revitalize my sheltered body as I succumb to the warmth of the outside world, piles of snow melt back into the earth, muddy paw and shoe prints are tracked throughout my house, birds are singing songs, rusted springs on the trampoline are popping, and my favorite part of all (even though my sinuses would disagree) is watching as nature renews the life around us that had been hibernating all winter in the frozen Tundra of Minnesota.

As my eyes begin to focus again, I can see my family’s past reflecting back in the world around me.  If you walked up to my house today and took a quick glance at the outside it will tell you stories without you ever having met the people inside.  Walking up the sidewalk leading to the front door, you will find leftover decorations from Christmas along side the cracked steps that have yet to be repaired.  Planters still stacked up from last summer waiting for the colors of Spring to penetrate the soil within them again.  A desolate area among the landscaping boards, which my husband spent his last Summer on this Earth building for me.

As you follow the sidewalk around  the house, you will discover the leaves of Jon quills beginning to sprout begging for the warmth of the sun and moisture from the melted snow to pull them out of the earth.  In the far left corner of my yard (behind the house) plastic fencing surrounds what appears to have once been a fruitful garden now filled with dried up weeds.  Directly behind the garden sits the garage, which contains unfinished projects and leftover remnants from our home remodel projects leaving no room for the cars to fit inside.  A trampoline sits on the opposite side of the yard pushed up to the porch of my son’s clubhouse that we had built last Summer.  You can begin to imagine the many kids (and moms) that have spent endless hours jumping off of the porch in hopes of springing some excitement back into their lives.  Leaning against the evergreen trees you will find piles of lumber and wood stacks, which I keep telling myself will eventually clean itself up so the neighbors driving down the alley won’t have to stare at it any longer.  They are probably seeing the reflection of our life staring back at them wondering why we live in such disarray, but what they haven’t seen yet are the lives that have been rebuilt on the inside.

From the outside looking in it appears to be an uncomfortably small space sitting in a state of disrepair; however, once you step through the back door of the house an entirely different story is about to unfold.  There’s fresh paint on the walls, newly stained floors, and a now modern main level that brings a sense of comfort to those that enter.  The basement, once unfinished, is now full of life and provides a place of warmth and light for the kids to be nurtured and grow into the amazing individuals they’re destined to become.

There will come a time soon when the energy bursts out of the house and those piles of wood, that once sat stacked against the evergreens, will begin to fade away.  The garden will spring to life once more from the excitement of those that await it’s fruitful abundance.  The landscaping will become lush and colorful leading to the front steps that once contained cracks exposed from the storms it had weathered throughout the years.   When that day comes the outside world will no longer be afraid of what they may see or feel if they enter our home, because the doors will be wide open with the welcome mat dusted off allowing them to capture a glimpse of the lives restored within.

1 thought on “A State of Disrepair”

  1. Tears come to my eyes as I read these words. You write so beautiful. You have been through so much and come so far. I am looking forward to next week when i spend time with you and the kids. Never change the way you are, i love you for who you are.

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