A Question About Your Home

On a sunny Saturday afternoon, my mom dropped me off for my first solo babysitting gig. Though I knew a bit about this family from church, I had no idea what to expect in their home. 

As I stepped through the doorway of their 1970’s brick rancher, the smell of rotten garbage threatened to take my gut for a ride. I swallowed a gag and waved hello.

Food encrusted plates were stacked like a crooked tower by the sink.

Ceramic bowls of spoiled milk with floating bits of soggy cereal sat next to the plates. 

Silverware covered with dried bits of food was littered across the counter. 

While the parents reviewed the evening’s protocol, I focused on making eye contact as the buzzing flies circled the open trash can and a roach scurried under a plate. 

Dad and Mom, both likable humans full of hilarious one-liners, never once mentioned to me their frustration with these living conditions. Mom cheerfully led me from the kitchen through a maze of shoes and toys to the living room where the kids watched TV, seemingly unbothered by their living conditions. I inwardly cringed at the soiled laundry and heaps of trash strewn about.

I nodded and smiled as the parents waved goodbye and closed the door, then made a quick mental plan to clean up what I could before they returned. I didn’t want to offend them but this was a CPS-you-could-lose-your-kids issue and it felt wrong to not do something.  

As I played with the kiddos, served their dinner, and tucked them into bed, I wondered what they felt in their home. Security? Comfort? Overwhelm? Shame?

And as I scrubbed dishes, emptied garbage cans, and collected laundry, I wondered whether this family even felt like they belonged in their home.

Three decades later and I wonder, what story were they writing for their home?

(And what would non-judgmental support have looked like for them while they picked up the pen?)

As we sit in the midst of February, the month where love and relationships are often the focus, I’m especially curious about the relationship we have with our homes. Like any business or organization expecting to thrive over the long haul, our homes invite us to answer this foundational question: What is the story we’re writing? All other decisions grow from our answer and when life gets overwhelming and confusing (as it does), we can look to that question as our north star.

As you know, this idea of writing a story for the different facets of our lives is not new. Countless theologians, philosophers, artists, writers, and leaders through the ages have alluded to it, studied it, and trained others in it. Sometimes, we understand the idea of story through the word ‘vision’ or ‘purpose.’

In the wisdom of the Old Testament proverb, we read, “Where there is no vision, the people perish.”

The brilliant scientist and inventor George Washington Carver said, “Where there is no vision, there is no hope.” 

Author Victor Frankl said, “Know your why and you can endure any how.”

Author and disability rights activist Helen Keller said, “The only thing worse than being blind is having sight with no vision.” 

The story we’re writing for our lives points to our vision, our reason, our purpose–our why–and we’re all living into whatever story we’re writing, whether or not we’re aware of the pen we hold. 

The same is true for our homes.

Becoming aware of the story you’re writing for your home is the first step

toward creating a home that reflects your values, meets your needs,

and gives you a sense of belonging.   

When I remember that first babysitting experience as a tween, I wonder about the story being written in that home. I’m pretty sure when they moved in, they weren’t thinking, “The story we want to write is to make this place feel like the city dump.” And yet, that’s exactly what the inside of their home looked, smelled, and felt like.

I believe they wanted a clean, safe home where they could create memories with their young kids, connect often with family and friends, and rest their weary selves from the stress of ministry. They needed support to find the deeper root of their struggle (maybe a therapist) and they needed a guide (maybe a coach) to help them pick up the pen and begin writing. I hope they were able to find what they needed.

The good news is that even in a home that feels overwhelming with stuff or waste or chaos, we have agency. We can begin to move forward by asking,

What is the story I’m writing for my home?

I’d love to hear your answer. Feel free to comment below or send me an email. 

And if I can help you write a better story for your home, please let me know.

Featured photo by Alexander Rumpel at Unsplash