•    A Roof Over My Head   

    Most days I feel someplace between 8 months pregnant and in a blissful state of craziness. My life is good and our life as a family is good. However, our good life as a family has found itself in a new state – under construction. Our house that was once neat, and even on occasion, charming and inviting, has become a house filled with muddy boot prints, the sounds of hammers banging and clanging, and without an important feature – a roof!

    It has been 7 days that we have lived roofless and really it has affected none of us negatively, accept of course Dad, Kris, who has slept with one ear attuned to the tarps – listening for the sound of pitter patter on plastic or the violent throws of a tarp thrashing loose under the blackened and thundering sky. Each day he has worked tirelessly to reharness the tarps, securing all 7 of them with great commitment, and then bailing out the buckets of rain water that he collected overnight. Never with a complaint or grumble. Each day he has done this with a nervous smile, and a good dose of worry that he tries not to share, but never with an unhappy heart. His spirit has remained strong and vibrant and displayed an unwavering pride in his home and in his family. For his attitude and his efforts, we are very blessed.

    Life is never predictable, and while we chose this roofing and addition project on our 1875 farmhouse, we can never predict what is around the corner, within another rain cloud, or under yet another layer of shingles. Life is filled with opportunities to be glad in the present, or to be mad in the present. While I can’t say I am enjoying every moment spent in a roofless home, I am enjoying the journey. I feel blessed and grateful for the gift of a family that works together and children that seem unfazed by the evening we spent in the basement last week during a surprise tornado warning, while Dad remained on the roof making sure a flood would not make its way into the living room. I enjoy the smiles that greet me over a hodge-podge dinner of leftovers, and the snuggle time I am given every morning as two little people end up in our bed, just in time to see the first rays of sunshine grace Main Street. It is during those quiet morning moments that I offer prayers before I roll my protruding belly out of bed, asking God to guide my day, my laughs and my struggles and to allow me to be the type of woman, mother and wife that he wants me to be.  It is during these quiet moments of prayer that I find the courage and encouragement that I desperately need to face this temporary challenge, but also to handle the ups and downs of daily living.

    Tonight as we prepare of another night with storms on the horizon and not a shingle over our head, I am reminded that although our roof is presently made of blue plastic and visqueen, my cup (and bucket) runneth over. In every day there is a treasure to be discovered and a hand to be held. While I know that this chapter will pass, I choose to gratefully welcome the buckets of rain water that may fill to the brim tonight above our heads, and the family that I have the honor and privilege of calling my own. It is my hope and prayer that when this project is completed, we can stand as a family in the pitted grass that covers our backyard and feel gratitude and peace in our hearts. A home should never be perfect, and although the clanging and banging will continue for many more weeks, our house is home to a family that loves it, and for that I am glad.