one year.

one year ago today we moved into this home. our first home. walls still sealed with masking tape and plastic and a kitchen without appliances or counter tops. the moving truck filled with people filing in and out carrying boxes, and couches, and cribs. i remember sitting on our piano bench and i started to cry. i was so moved by the moment. our first home. hopefully our last home. people continued to march in and around and about the rooms. i sat, pointing, directing and correcting the stream of people. my body still on pain medication from my c-section 6 days earlier. noelle arrived three weeks earlier than we expected. she was early and the kitchen cabinets were late. some things can never be planned. someone brought pizza and we ate and sam never sat down. answering questions and providing tours of our 1,400 square foot place, i smiled non stop. our friend arrived and mounted the mantel above the fireplace as several bystanders made him do it over at least four times till it was perfectly straight. and women, a lot of women, in one room can probably drive a man crazy, but we laughed and it makes for a good memory. it was a cold night, but the love of so many people ushering us graciously into our new home brought so much warmth. oh and who could forget the piano that weighs a million pounds. it was the same piano that we pushed down a hill when we moved from the top of 7th street to the middle of 6th street. that piano is a beast and sam swears that he will never move it again. but 8 guys rolled and hauled it through our front doorway, shouting directions, and motioning hands to move it forward. and then the boys arrived. four and two. and we couldn't find the the two year old's crib screws. so sam drove 20 minutes to scour the old place for the missing zip lock bag. he couldn't find it so that night the little one moved to a big boy bed. and they jumped on the beds shouting, "we don't have to move again until we go to heaven!" and i can't remember what un-godly hour they fell asleep that night. and slowly everyone left and we were alone, our family of five in our first home.

 one year later. we lay feet fixed up on the fireplace, listening to a mix of music and remembering that night a year ago. and a song comes on. sam asks if we can just listen. "life is about people." the lyrics repeat this line, "life is about people," again and again. our kitchen is completed, the walls painted the perfect color of blue, and i've rearranged the furniture a few hundred times, but essentially none of that matters. life is about people. life isn't about property or sq feet or a perfect styled pinterest home. life is about the people. the hands that carried boxes and sewed curtains and hung towels. all the people that walked through our front door and shared a meal. all the mornings sipping tea and evenings spent playing settlers. forth of july parties with thirty some children and giggling in every corner. a three year old living a dream day and having a dirt birthday party in our unfinished front yard. people arriving unexpectedly, head in hands, heart in tears. counter top conversations eating candy at midnight. children learning to swim, children and mom's crying because swimming is apparently equivalent to torture. people shoveling rocks, placing new patches of grass and planting trees. surprise knocks on the front door from sisters and spouse. so many of these moments that i can hardly recall them all. there have been so many wonderful people within these walls this year. a home is nothing without people. life is about people.