There was much thumping and general banging about overhead. The ceiling of our bedroom is insulated, but still, insulation can only do so much when there's much thumping and general banging about up above. There were voices, too. Loud, garbled vocal sounds were being flung around like so much crazy mud slinging. Thumping. Banging. Tumbling. Voices. Loud. Pretty normal stuff for a random evening with three boys in the little house.
But, soon, an S.O.S. came through from the loft via text message.
It was from a boy up there.
Obviously from the one who still possessed his sanity.
Eden can't be found in a little house. It can't be found on a few acres in the country with a creek flowing through. It can't be found in the foothills of towering mountains and expansive views. It can't be found in a mortgage-free home. It can't be found here.
The perfect world of Eden vanished long ago.
Here, we have a very small house that's filled with thumping and banging about. Here we have five people with five opinions and five different personalities. Here we have dirt and grass stains and wrinkles; anger, frustration, and tears. Here we have dreams that dilly-dally and drag their feet.
Here we have no front porch and shaggy grass growing where flowers should be. Here we have a lumpy lawn, the neighbor's junk pile, and ratty buildings nearby. Here we have no money for anything different. Here we have to wait.
Here, some might say, live the lunatics.
Yes. Here we live. Here, in the imperfection, in the mess, in the unknown, in the bumping about, we choose to live. There's that sunlight again, splashed extravagantly across the room. There's the sound of rain pattering on the roof. There's the owl landing in the top of the towering spruce.
The food served at our table was grown just down the road. Flowers, too many for a friend's garden, fit just right in ours. Instead of fine linen, we have cotton drop cloths; instead of gallery works, our own art hangs. Instead of many separate rooms, we share a beautiful few.
We give each other our hearts and stories and fears. We wrap each other up and cheer each other on. Peace outwrestles worry, and our less is truly more.
We've not found Eden, but impressions of Eden have found us.
I've been asked if our life is all roses. It is, friends, it is. With all the thorns that come with them.
This is fourth in a series of posts in which I look back on the past two years of living in 665 square feet as a family of five. The next in the series will be posted on Friday.