Our house has seen over 20 years of Larsen family memories. It has seen lots & lots & lots of laughter. It has seen hunts for our hidden Christmas stockings & Saturday morning chores. It has seen the "Dump the Grump" walk, where you have to circle the main floor of the house until you can come back around with a smile. It has seen napkin fights at dinner, short prayers at the beginning of the meal, as we were starving, and longer prayers when we were finished eating. It has seen fights over who would get to sleep with Toto and more "roller skating shows" than I would like to admit. Blanket rides, wall climbing and "flashlight shows"...the "hugging chair," Saturday night pizza dinners with the Totel's and that one awful Christmas when the garbage disposal exploded.
All 3 of us grew up in this house. This house has been shaped with blessings, growing pains and more love than I could ever articulate in words.
However, I'm not sure that anybody expects to be 27 years old and living with their parents, still totally dependent on them. But let's take it one step further and add in my 30 year old sister and her 2 & 3 year old sons, all under my helplessly invaded parents' roof. My beautifully gracious parents.
This is the scenario I came home to - one that sounded much more fun, like a slumber party, than it actually was. Yes, of course, in retrospect we had many, many fun nights living together. After the boys went to bed, we would stay up and talk and laugh and heal from the past and anticipate the future. But there were other nights that I won't forget, either. Nights that clearly illustrated how broken we were (and are) and how difficult it was to find our place back in each other's lives, especially after I'd been gone for so long while so much had changed as I was away.
Now, the walls of our house saw much different circumstances. Ones that you don't wish for when you move your family into a home.
I wish I could report that it's been all rainbows and butterflies in our household since I've come home. But, no family is perfect and mine has definitely been fighting to hold on this past year - to hold on to each other, to our sanity, to our hope. It's been anything but pretty.
Unfortunately, I'm afraid that the ugliest part of this all has been me. And so I think the main reason why I wanted to dedicate an entire post to my family is simply to thank them. As read as this blog may or may not be - I want to "publicly" thank them for putting up with me when I came home run-down and exhausted to a home I was expecting to "fix," but, instead, did more hurting than helping.
I will never forget a night when my dad was out of town. My mom, sister and I stayed up late talking and through a series of events, Cori & I ended up getting in a fight. A screaming match ensued that was so intense, it may have woke the neighbors. We ended up in the family room, her on my dad's recliner, me on the couch, my mom mediating in the middle. Cori's sobs were so hard, she was gasping for breath and shaking uncontrollably. Eventually, as the middle of the night approached, we ended up both standing up at the same time. I nearly swallowed her in my arms as she dug her head into my shoulder and we bawled and said "i love you," repeatedly. The night ended with us sitting on the couch on either side of my mom, hugging and crying and saying "i'm sorry," and "i love you," and "this isn't easy." That was one of the most painfully powerful nights I've ever lived. It was the confusing mess in action - proof that we were just still trying to figure it all out. The changes in each of our lives affected our relationships with each other deeply and it was a struggle to sort out how we would fit into each other's lives now that we've lived such different ones and so many changes had and were and would be taking place. We aren't perfect, but a generous dose of grace & forgiveness allowed us to not only survive, but it strengthened our relationships with each other in the process.
The time that we all spent under one roof was not the happiest times our home has seen, particularly for my sister and I. But, there were some really beautiful moments. Nights when I would sneak into her room and crawl into bed with her and she'd hold me as I cried. And cried. And cried. Tears I didn't always understand as I processed the past and tried to figure out my place in the present and future. I was blessed with extra time to spend with my nephews and more family dinners (some without Ryan, of course, who has not been forgotten in all of this!) than I could have ever dreamed of. On Cori's last night living with us, we were so excited about her wedding the next day that we didn't have time to reflect on the end of our current season together. But as I walked into her room to say goodnight, it hit us completely and tears streamed down our face as we hugged, speechless, in her empty room.
And, on January 22, I was blessed with the gift of seeing love, grace & restoration in action. Cori became Mrs. Cheek in an intimate ceremony at the Cultural Center in Downtown Chicago. There were 11 witnesses, including the officiant. I couldn't hear one word that was spoken between Cori & Jeremy...but I didn't need to. You could see it on their faces. You could see the love and the vows and the certainty written all over their bright smiles and wide eyes; in their giggles and tears. They literally did not take their eyes off of each other for one moment. None of the rest of us even needed to be there. It was the most genuine wedding I've ever attended. I've been to countless weddings which cost monumental amounts of money and take months of planning. This included none of that, yet it was the most beautiful, touching ceremony I've ever experienced. While the intimacy was one of the most special parts, I wish others could have seen the beauty and sincerity of it all. Through it all, God's presence was strongly felt, releasing restoration upon all of our hearts. I thank God for that day. For the blessing of Jeremy that Cori was given, and the blessing to me, personally, of seeing a love like that. I've never been the same since, as my faith in true love was redeemed in ways I didn't know I needed.
That's it. That's the honest truth, no holds barred, of how life has been in our little yellow house. If you think it sounds like we cry a lot, you may be absolutely correct. I was once told that I need to stop crying so much. I've never quite understood why. I think tears are one of the realest ways I can express myself. They're not always tears of sadness, but they all allow me to show emotion and emotions are real and human and genuine and I would never, in my life, want to shy away from that. I love my family for accepting my emotions and for expressing theirs, as well. I think that's one of the reasons why we're so close. We share our lives, our thoughts, our feelings, our hurts, our triumphs...no matter how good or bad or ugly it all is, we'll all share in it. The screams and the tears aren't fun, but they are real. And the laughter and the celebrations make it all worthwhile.
To my fam -- I shared a lot with you on my birthday and just know that I meant every word. You guys sustain me. You "get" me. You accept me unconditionally. Love me unconditionally. Support me unconditionally. You bring me grace & peace.
Grace & Peace. Grace & Peace. Grace & Peace.
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