What do we hang first? On the walls, I mean.

Last night was a tough one. It has been frustrating to my "I LOVE CHRISTMAS" self to see every house in our neighborhood (yes, EVERY) lit up at night and looking festive. We look like the Ebenezer Scrooges of the street. We do actually know where the boxes are (Rachel's room at this point) but have sworn to not get all of that going until we are further along with this unpacking and straightening ordeal. Again, I have to say that I fully understand that others have gone through this, but perhaps they are more flexible and can manage their life better than I do. It wouldn't take much really. As I write this I see a slow stream of cars driving ever so slowly down the street to see the lights and decorations....but not at our house. Our light went out on the front porch and we have yet to figure out how to change it. Looks impossible!

I decided to try the "take one room at a time" principle so I started with my bath and bedroom. Since our television is out, I decided to put my Ipod on the speakers and listen to some music while cleaning and unpacking. Found some of the clothes and shoes I had been missing...finally let go of some old things that you just keep because you think you should. I was making some progress when I realized that I had forgotten to pick up a prescription in, you guessed it, Fort Smith. It's no longer the five minute trip it once was. More like fifteen to twenty. But off I went.

When I returned, Steve and I ate some supper and he told me he had hung the first framed photo in the house. He was pretty proud of himself. We laughed as we finished eating and then he was back out into the attic to work on flooring that thing. I go out for the occasional "can you hold this while I use the skill saw and get sawdust all over you?" But I did it anyway.

I went back inside and spotted the picture he had hung. Yes, that's it above. Probably my favorite that I took of my three when we were at Carol Ann Cross Park one fall afternoon to play. It's such a work because it says so much about each of them at that time as well as now. There's Mary Beth---off and running in the lead knowing the others are behind her. Even now they love and support her through whatever she does. Greg holding Rachel's hand in his cute little overalls and probably some colored socks...likely red ones...that his mother put on him so he'd match. He was the youngest, so he tried to keep up with Mary Beth because whatever she was doing would be an adventure, but he wanted the security of big sister's hand at the same time. He still likes adventures but I think it's safe to say that he still likes to be close to remind himself that he is so loved and adored. Then there's Rachel. What a cutie in her little socks that had beads crocheted around the edge. And of course she tolerated yet another big bow in her hair. You don't see one in Mary Beth's hair, do you?? Rachel was the one that loved an adventure but was, and is, always more cautious, keeping her eyes wide open to what is going on around her and protecting the ones she loves like an old mama bear. Still does.

It was probably one of the few happy memories I have of life with the children and their father.

The tears were just at the edge when suddenly I realized that Michael Buble was singing on my Ipod and yes, he was singing about "Home". If you haven't heard it and need a good cry just find it and play it now. It felt good to let the tears go, just as they find their way up again as I write this. The lump in my throat just won't go away when I think how precious they are and how precious Steve is for thinking how very much it would mean for me to have this, of all photos, hanging in the house. That photo says we belong here and there will be room for future photos just like that on other walls here.

I love decorating and all, but sometimes it takes just one photo to remind you what home is all about. I think I will go now and unpack another box. And maybe tomorrow I will feel less sorry for myself and be able to find the motivation to finish the job.