Friday, July 17, 2015

112 Laconwood

My mom is moving.
Papers are being signed, boxes are packed-officially moving. 

And as we go through the process of sorting through old things and dividing up what we want - I'm starting to comprehend how many stories this house holds, and I want to remember them. 

Because all I know lately is that things keep going, they keep changing. My youth pastors stopped being youth pastors, Rob Petersen has preached his last at Edinburg Christian, my baby sister is getting married and my favorite sandals are on their last summer.
And this house, I want to remember.  

So in case you didn't grow up with me, here's what you need to know about 112 Laconwood:


Here lies two pet rabbits and 30 dead fish. 

Here is where Olivia used sharpe on the carpet and Hannah threw up wedding punch. 

This is the location of about 2,000 couch pictures though the couches and cameras changed. 

Here is where we learned what the grace of God looks like after the bathroom was flooded and the ceiling fell into the kitchen and mom still didn't kill us. 

Here is where someone shut the garage door on the new van, and someone else left the deep freeze open. 

Here lies the naked lady bathroom wallpaper we will never be able to forget.

Here we spent hundreds of hours practicing piano in tortuous 30 minute increments. 

Here was born the OH Restaurant, served on Emily's bedsheet. 

Here is the big tree that we played under, we were just pioneers trying to survive.  

Here our mom taught us that girl power can accomplish anything, like dragging wet carpet out of the basement, painting the bathroom red or mowing on the diagonal. 

Here we learned to cook meatloaf, French braid our sisters' hair and what to do should a semi lose control. 

Here is where we spent every Christmas Eve snuggled up together. 

Here is where we learned how to ride a bike, drive a car and make knot blankets. 

Here is where we got to watch what a woman of faith does when things get scary. 

Here we built snowmen, raked leaves and stepped on rusty nails. 

Here is where we came when school was hard, when boys broke our hearts or we needed laundry done. 

This is where we put up our Christmas tree, this is where we hunted Easter eggs, this is where we carved pumpkins. 

This is home to the emotion bush, dress up in the basement, and game nights. 

Here is where our 'Mana' arrived, and where we watched our mom cry. 

This is where we hunted mice and got a puppy and bred guinea pigs. 

Here on this kitchen floor, late at night with a tub of ice cream, was the safest place in the universe. 

Here is where we struggled, we got hurt, we tried to understand divorce. 

Here is where my sisters became my best friends. 

Here is where we wore eye patches, heart monitors and headgear. 

Here is where we practiced walking in high heels, had time constraints on Internet and a doorbell that called us to dinner. 

This is where we threw surprise parties, played Shangai and fell in love. 

This is where my friends would come, to eat and see my mom.

This is where we fought a lot. Where we apologized as well. 

Here is where I sat and watched my mom do her hair and her makeup on Sundays before church for 12 years. 

Here is where we had water fights in the house. 

This is where we played Barbies, planned weddings and learned to shave our legs. 

This house held ugly curtains, awful rugs and monstrous art work too. 

Here is where I did homework. From 3rd grade to just this year. 

Here and only here is where you'll find beautiful wonderful loud family dinners that most boyfriends didn't survive. 

This is where I said goodbye to the people I missed most the day we moved to Fort Wayne. 

Here lies Titanic, Tourist Trap and Cocoa Jammy Christmas. 

This is where we celebrated birthdays and graduations and mom's new job. 

This is where my family was. Where we grew and changed and loved each other. 

This is where my home was. My family was made here, and so was I.

Lately I'm trying to figure out where I belong. Garrett has this job he loves and we love our church family and we are figuring out our new town. But I'm trying to find my spot- what it is that I'm supposed to do. And I look at this house and this funny front porch and this reminds me of who I am. Where I came from. And what we've been through. I miss these things. And I know that when this season passes, I'm going to miss it too. 

So if they change the front lights and the Rochester Rockets finally lose a State Championship... it wasn't us. 

With Love, 

Emily LeVault