The Giving Tree

Five years ago right now, I was pregnant with Peter and we were looking for a house.  We had moved from Minnesota ten months before and had been renting our friend's house.  But now, they were coming home and we needed to find a place to live.

Every morning, one of the first things I would do, was search the MLS to see if there were new homes on the market.  I would peruse pictures of interiors, study maps to see exactly where the homes were located, and check out the schools associated with the homes I saw.  Occasionally, I would find a house I liked and I would make Andrew do a drive-by.  Even less frequently, I would find a house that seemed ideal enough that we would actually go walk through it.

This was a time of sincere fasting and prayer.  I believe that Heavenly Father cares where we live and where we raise our children and I needed his guidance as we made this huge decision.  And so, five years ago this week, after a colossal melt-down (during which I cried and wailed that I didn't know where we were going to live and Abby encouraged me not to think about the house, but to "just think about candy, lots and lots of candy") a woman in our ward called and said they were selling their house.  She asked if I would like to come see if we were interested in buying it.

Andrew was at work, so I took the three kids and went over by myself to see the house.  I sent the kids out to play in the backyard while I walked through the house.  I would give anything to go back in time and know what I was thinking as I walked through the house. The house has the most ridiculous and nonfunctional floor plan.  It was decorated in a style somewhere between Little House on the Prairie and Holly Hobby and everything that had been done to the house, was done on the cheap.  It only has three bedrooms - including the master bedroom - so it's not really big enough for a growing family.  I honestly don't know what I was thinking as I walked through it.

All I know, is that after walking through the house, I went out in the back yard and I saw my three little babies playing happily on an old apple tree.  I looked at the big yard and the expanse of grass and that wonderful old tree, and I felt the feeling I had been longing for: we were finally home.  I knew this was where our family belonged.

Over the years since we moved into this house, I have spent more time than I should complaining about  all the things that drive me crazy about our home.  My list of complaints is long and detailed and there isn't an easy solution for any of them.  However, the one thing that hasn't changed in the five years we've lived here, is the love and attachment we all have for that apple tree.

Abby swings high in the branches of the apple tree - August 2007.

One of the first things Andrew did after we moved in, was hang a rope swing from it's branches.  Countless hours have been spent whiling away summer afternoons playing on that rope swing.  The kids also love climbing the branches of the tree, finding a perfect perch to read or daydream. Whenever friends come over, the first thing they want to do is climb the tree and swing on the rope swing.  We have hosted birthday parties in the shade of that dear old tree the tree and have photographed family and friends in its branches.

Isaac swinging on the rope swing shortly after we moved in.  He was only 4.  

Abby's birthday party in 2008 when she turned 7.

Since moving into this house nearly five years ago, we have found reasons to love living here.  We love our street and our neighbors who have become some of our dearest friends.  We love the kids who live on this street and are such good friends to our children.  We love the old trees and the windy road and the view of the mountains.  We love watching the sunsets from our front porch and we love gentle breeze that blows down from the canyon.

I still believe Heavenly Father cares where we live.  I know he has a plan for each of us and I believe he puts us where he needs us to bless the lives of others.  I believe he cares who our neighbors are and where we raise our children.  I don't think he cares about floor plans or marble countertops or even having enough bedrooms for our children, but I know that he wants what's best for our family.

That's why I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for our old apple tree.  It was seeing my children climb in its branches the first time that drew me to this home where we have now put down roots of our own.

Abby and Lucy loving and swinging.

My five babies still play in the branches of the old apple tree.

Sunsets

Just one more reason why I love summers in Utah

(as seen from our front porch.)

You're Welcome.

Our Rope Swing

One of the best things about our new house, is an old apple tree in the back yard that is just right for climbing. Our kids love that tree and spend much of their time outside climbing in its branches.

Yesterday, Andrew made the apple tree even sweeter. He constructed a simple rope swing with a wooden seat and tied it to one of the highest branches of the tree. Abby and Isaac spent the entire afternoon swinging on that swing and squealing at the top of their lungs as Andrew pushed them up into the tree branches.

When I came outside to watch them swing, Isaac bravely let go of the rope for just an instant and yelled, "Mama, your boy isn't afraid of anything!"

Abby enjoyed a more gentle swing. With a dreamy expression on her face, she let her head fall back as the wind blew her hair.

And little Henry, couldn't quite get his balance right on the rope swing, so he opted to spend the afternoon sucking his binky and sitting in the baby swing.

It was a perfect summer afternoon spent in the shade of the apple tree while we all took turns on the swing.

Bed of Roses

On Friday, in preparing to have 50+ people to our house on Sunday, I took all FOUR kids, to Costco. I was super-organized with a very specific list of everything I needed for the big event. Included on the list was "flowers for centerpieces". I love having an excuse to buy flowers at Costco, and as I perused the various bouquets, I found exactly what I wanted. It was a bouquet of incredible roses in fabulous bright colors: red, hot pink, salmon, and yellow. They were perfect. As I picked them out I congratulated myself on being so organized and so visionary to find the perfect flowers.

I brought the roses home and to keep them from blossoming before Sunday, I put them in our basement fridge. Now, in my defense, I have to say that our fridge isn't that cold. For example, our milk never seems quite cold enough when I take it out of that fridge. So, I assumed it would be the perfect temperature to perserve my gorgeous roses.

On Saturday afternoon, again feeling super-organized, I went down to get the roses so I could get them arranged before Sunday. When I got them out of the fridge, to my horror, they were frozen! Actual ice crystals had formed on the delicate petals - and as the ice started to melt, the petals were slimy and mushy. The roses were destroyed.

As I carried the roses upstairs, I could not have been more disappointed and upset. I couldn't believe that I had been dumb enough to put the roses in the fridge and that they were now ruined. My effort at organization and planning-ahead had been foiled by a lousy fridge. My sorrow over this sad turn of events quickly changed to anger and frustration. I set the flowers on the counter and walked away, hoping to defuse my temper.

As it turns out, walking away didn't help so much. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became until I reached "boiling point". With Andrew and the kids all standing-by watching, I walked over to the roses, raised them over my head then slammed them down on the counter. Again and again I hit the roses over the counter and as I did so, petals went flying everywhere. It was spectacular! None of us could believe what I was doing - nor could we believe how gorgeous it looked to see such vibrantly colored rose petals flying through our kitchen.

I can't tell you how much better I felt after my complete breakdown. Our kitchen was covered in rose petals and it smelled incredible. The offending roses were destroyed and I could look forward to Plan B. As Andrew and my sweet kids helped clean up the kitchen, Andrew assured Abby and Isaac that never again in their lives would they clean up such a beautiful mess.

As usual, Abby had profound insight into the situation. With a broom in her hand, she said matter-of-factly, "Well, I guess that fridge is good for Diet Coke, but not so good for roses."

P.S. Luckily for me, Andrew was willing to go to Costco and to get some new roses. I have entitled the shown bouquet, "Plan B".

Our New House

After renting a house for the past year, we recently bought and moved into a new home.
We had been looking for a house for the past several months but nothing we saw seemed like the right place for our family. Finally, in early May, just weeks before the birth of our fourth baby, and weeks before we had to be out of the house we were renting, a woman in our neighborhood called and asked if we were interested in walking through their house they were preparing to sell.

From the moment we walked into the house, it felt like home. The house only has three bedrooms, a tiny garage, and all the quirks of an older home, but somehow, I knew this was where our family should be. As I saw our kids playing in the backyard, it seemed like they belonged there. We have spent the past month moving in, welcoming a new baby into our family and trying to settle into normalcy. Through all the craziness, we are grateful to have a place to call home - a place where we all feel like we belong.