Thankful on January 17, 2011

I must say, with a little bit of sadness and a great deal of relief, that I am happy to say goodbye to 2010. It was a year of great trial and tribulation for me, one of tears and turmoil. But as I reflect back, there are moments of exquisite beauty and joy. For each of those moments, I am full of gratitude. Some of my favorites of 2010...

Favorite Adventure: Watching my Shakira sky dive. This was quite a day. Shakira has always wanted to do this, and on our way up to Fort Collins, to drop her off to begin her time at CSU, we stopped by Longmont and she jumped out of a plane. Anyone who knows Miss Shak, knows that this is completely characteristic. Shakira has honorary cahones. She is not afraid of anything. While watching her descend from the sky, tears ran down my cheeks. I am so unbelievably blessed to have this precious girl as my own. She loves life and all that it throws at her. She faces everything head-on with determination and sunshine. She is an incredible woman, and I look forward to the wild and daring frontiers she will cross in her life. I look forward to crossing them with her.

Favorite Gift: For Christmas, Corbin went handmade. He spent many hours back in our shop, which I was strictly forbidden to enter. I was so ridiculously excited, just like a little girl on Christmas Eve. We got up VERY early on Christmas morning...not knowing if Iver's call would be at 6:00 a.m. or 6:00 p.m. After my shower, I tiptoed downstairs, naked, in the pitch dark. I had only the light of my cell phone, because our blinds are see-through at night, to light my way to let Stella outside. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, there was something gigantic and covered with a drop cloth and leaning against the wall. I lifted an edge of the drop cloth to take a little peek and it fell to the floor! I was in quite a predicament, couldn't turn on the lights because I could be seen naked from the street, couldn't set down my cell phone to have both hands to put the drop cloth back up....and it was at that moment that I turned around and saw Corbin sitting on the stairs laughing. Busted. He made me the most beautiful floor mirror...massive and chocolate brown, perfectly pieced together from antique reclaimed wood, salvaged from old buildings in downtown. It is incredible. The loveliest piece of furniture I will ever own. The most lovely part? That Corbin loves me this much!

Favorite Day: The last Sunday in May, we had a wonderful "farewell fiesta" for Iver before he ventured off on his mission to Mexico. It started at church, where over a hundred of our friends and family joined us to hear Iver speak. And he did not disappoint. Iver gave a precious talk about kindness and following the Savior's example to love each other. He shared special stories from his life that had helped teach him this principle. Then he and Shakira performed "I Hope They Call Me On A Mission," complete with cello as a bass, ukulele, whistling, and an additional verse. There wasn't a dry eye in the chapel, and my adorable 80 year old friend Jessie gave them a standing ovation. It was perfect. After church, our home was filled with the love and well wishes of so many people. We served tacos, broke Iver and Kevin's homemade pig pinatas, and enjoyed ourselves and our son late into the night. All were confident that Iver would be an extraordinary missionary. As Corbin and I laid in bed that night, we could not wipe the smiles off of our faces. And as we smiled, we wept. We laid in each other's arms and felt such incredible satisfaction in our children and our lives. There never was a better day.

These three memories are ones I will cherish. I will also cherish the pain, and the personal growth I have obtained because of it. I am crazy-thankful for this little life of mine.

Thankful on December 16, 2010

I have a mixed history with dogs. There have been a couple of precious, loved ones in my life, but far more mean and scary ones. I have incredible fear of canines. When I encounter one I don't know, my heart races, I break out in a sweat, and my eyes start to water. I have to fight the flight instinct.

It began when I was a small child...I had the most wonderful grandpa, who had the scariest dog!! Prince loved my grandpa and was wildly possessive. My grandpa always warned me to not reach out to Prince, or look him in the eye, so I was careful to keep my distance. I remember vividly an incident when my grandpa left the room, Prince inched toward me, and growled. That picture in my memory still makes me cringe! He had these terrifying freckles...that multiplied when he bared his teeth. My grandpa walked in to save me, just in the nick of time.

I remember another dog, a collie, who violently barked and attacked the fence each day as I walked to and from the bus stop. I was a teeny little five year old and I would carefully cross the street, so I could walk as far away as possible from that dog. I will never forget the absolute terror I felt one day, as I began to walk past that house and realized the gate was open. The dog started in on it's usual barking, then came through that gate and toward me across the street at lightning speed. I didn't even have time to run. It had that same nasty snarl as Prince, jumped up on me and knocked me down. A woman, the dog's owner, came rushing out with gigantic juice-can rollers in her hair and a cigarette hanging from her lips, and pulled the dog off of me. She picked me up, brushed me off, and with a snarl herself said, "Don't you dare tell your parents about this!" I ran off as fast as I could. Of course, my little kindergarten brain worked out a wonderful solution...I would use the NEXT stop, three blocks from my house, and I DEFINITELY would not tell my parents. It was less than a week, however, that I missed the bus. I was still so afraid of that dog and that horrible woman and didn't want to explain the truth to my parents, but they were able to get it out of me.

When Corbin and I were dating, we arrived at his parent's home late one night, after everyone had already gone to bed. Corbin had forgotten his key, so we went around to the back door to see if it was unlocked. Nope. Corbin told me to wait there, he would get the hidden key, open the front door, then let me in the back door. As soon as he left me, I saw a big black figure charging at me. I realized it was their family black lab, Coalie, just as she was jumping up onto my shoulders, growling and gnashing at my face. Corbin opened the door just as her teeth made contact with my cheek. Needless to say, I made Corbin take me home, and I stayed far, far away from that mean old dog for the rest of her life.

I had another dog incident that was so horrifying, I really do not speak of it. It involves a monster, truly, eating her own brand-new puppies, then trying to eat me. It happened when I was very sick and, at the suggestion of a church leader, trying to reach outside of myself to serve someone else. The incident set me far, far back in my healing and is an image that is cemented in my brain. I had nightmares for years.

So, you can only imagine my reaction five years ago when Corbin decided that he really wanted to get a dog. He knew all of these things about me and promised to be very selective. With that promise, and the excitement of our children, I mustered up courage and agreed. I was not part of the process. Corbin had a good friend from church, who was moving and needed to find a home for their dog. She was a great breed, a German Shorthair Pointer, three years old. The friend had rescued her from terrible circumstances at a puppy mill, and she had spent the past couple of years in their home with three little girls pulling on her ears. I did not go with my family to pick her up. But when they arrived home, something tugged a little at my heart. She was such a pretty dog, and a little bit shy because she didn't know us yet. Corbin let me choose a name for her...Stella. It seemed a perfect fit. For the next several months, Corbin kept her on a "short leash," she never left his side. He taught her, and loved her, and she quickly turned into a very well behaved little creature. All the while, my heart softened and I came to love her dearly.

Stella has these ears...oh, I love her ears! They are softer than velvet, and they move to express how she is feeling. When she REALLY wants something, she gives us her cute ears, which say, "Oh, please. Look how cute I am with my floppy ears. I know you can't say no to me! I'm too adorable! And I loooovvvveeee you!"

Stella has big, gorgeous brown eyes. When I'm sad, she puts her chin on my knee and looks at me with those precious eyes, "Stella loves you so much, please don't cry or Stella will cry!"

Stella loves EVERYONE. We often joke that if someone broke into our house, she would greet them at the front door, stubby little tail wagging the whole back half of her body and say, "Hi! I'm Stella and I love you! Let me show you where they keep the food. Will you share?!"

Stella thinks that she is a small dog, and loves to sit in my lap. She loves us all so much, and has brought so much joy into our lives. I look forward to getting home each day, opening the door, and being adored. It feels really good!

I still panic around dogs. But Stella has helped me to be able to take a deep breath and try to love them all. For that I am so thankful. But for the love she gives me and chunk of my heart that she occupies, I am crazy-thankful!

Thankful on December 2, 2010

A word of warning before you begin reading today. This post contains my testimony of the Savior Jesus Christ. It also contains a personal, wonderful story about how I came to obtain that testimony. If you do not wish to continue reading, that is understandable...I will write about something lighter next week!

It is all contained in this letter I sent to Iver today.

My Precious Iver:

I am quite dismayed right now, knowing that you did not receive the package we sent with your sweaters, and knowing that there is a very real probability that you won't receive your Christmas package in time for Christmas. I have shed many tears over this, and pray that somehow these things will find their way to you. In the meantime, I know that you are receiving the pouch mail, so I wanted to send this to you, my testimony of the Savior, which I pray will be a gift in itself.

I love our Savior. I feel His love and influence in my life everyday. I know that He lives and that He is aware of me. I have had a lot of sin in my life. I have called on the Savior and His atonement to lift me and save me from those sins and He has. I have seen that same atonement and love from the Savior in your behalf, as well as in dad's and Shakira's. I am eternally grateful for Jesus Christ.

The experience I want to share with you is the most precious gift of all for me. It's a story I know you have heard, but I will share it again, because of my love and appreciation for Christ.

When you were quite young, early grade school age, I was very, very sick with my bipolar disorder. I spent time locked up in a hospital. I was medicated to the point where I existed in a fog. Those medications caused extreme side effects that caused me to be very physically ill as well. I could not go into public at all, because of extreme anxiety and fear. Most days I could not even get out of bed, or if I did, I quickly got back in. I could not function. And each day I would weep. Weep because I wasn't able to take care of my beautiful children and husband. Weep because I wasn't able to even participate in being part of our family. I would weep for you, and Shakira, and dad because I imagined how hard life was for you living with me. I would desperately pray to Heavenly Father while I wept, to understand what I needed to learn so I could move on. I would pray for Him to take the illness away. And some days, everything was so dark and black, that I would pray that Heavenly Father would spare you and Shakira and dad by just taking me home to Him. I hated myself for putting you all through such agony and pain.

One day, when my illness was at it's height, my mom went to the temple, specifically searching for the Lord's help in helping me. She purposely arrived early, so she could sit reverently in the chapel before her session began and pray for me. As she prayed, she cried. I am her baby, after all, and she felt so helpless. She prayed to know what to do, prayed for healing for me, and prayed for peace for her mourning soul. She paused and looked up to the front of the chapel. At the front of our temple's chapel is a large painting of Jesus, setting apart and blessing His twelve diciples. He is standing in the center of the painting, with eleven of the diciples surrounding Him, and one of them kneeling in front of Him. Christ's hands are on the head of the one kneeling. As my mom looked at the painting, the kneeling diciple faded away, and she saw ME in his place, being personally blessed by the Savior. Amazing peace came to her as the spirit whispered to her that I would be okay, that I wasn't done on this earth, that the Savior needed me and would bless me.

As soon as her temple session ended, she drove up the mountain, and sat down on the edge of my futon. She pulled the covers from my head and, with tears streaming down her face, told me what had happened in the temple that day. I, too was filled with peace. And I was filled with LIGHT that I hadn't felt in a very long time. I sat up and my mother held me in her arms and we cried. When she left, I was able to get out of bed. I felt hope. I couldn't explain it at all, and still can't. But I knew the Savior loved me and had suffered this for me. He knew. He knew.

Within the week, Julie Bellum called dad to tell him about an acquaintance of hers, who was part of a Johns Hopkins study of a controversial new treatment for bipolar disorder, and having incredible success. We went to her home and visited with her. Dad and I prayed together and decided that, although my doctor counseled against it, Empower and Truehope was the direction we should go. As you know, it wasn't an easy transition, but within three months, I was off of the terrible anti-psychotic drugs and doing very, very well on my supplement. And I haven't looked back. Sure, I struggle from time to time. I always will. But I am WELL.

Jesus Christ is my Savior, Iver. He truly SAVED me. He knows me. He wants me. He loves me. He needed me to be your mom, your dad's wife. He needed me to serve the youth of His church. He needed me to teach Olive and Jade and Vivian the gospel. He still needs me.

I cannot deny His love and His power. I cannot deny that He lives and loves us.

I know this. KNOW it.

Precious son of mine, how blessed I am to be alive and part of your life. How blessed I am to witness your complete love and devotion to the Lord. I love you more than I could ever possibly say.

Momma

For a beautiful December, to devote my thoughts to Jesus Christ, I am crazy-thankful.

Thankful on November 24, 2010

A year or so after we began dating, Corbin and I made this green coin in a funny little outdoor arcade in Mantitou Springs. We began talking about spending our lives together long before that...by our third date, to be exact (please keep in mind that we had already been dear friends for several years before that point). We also often talked about our dreams for our family, the kind of parents we would be, and the amazing children we would have. This coin lists the names of that future we dreamed of, Iver, Shakira, Corbin, Michelle, and has become a token of the miracle that is our little Johnson family.

Rewind to "Michelle, age 15." It was at this point that I developed endometriosis. I was hospitalized many times as a teenager, and had surgery on several occasions to remove ridiculously huge cysts from my ovaries or the mayhem left over when those cysts exploded. There were times my mother would find me passed out on the bathroom floor, or my dad would try to comfort me in the middle of the night while I was doubled over and screaming in pain. I was 16 years old when my gynecologist told me I would probably never be able to have children.

Now skip forward a couple of years. When Corbin and I began dating, he had not been active in our church for quite awhile. He began coming back. About a year and a half into our relationship, our stake president came to Corbin and told him that it was time for Corbin to get ready to go on a mission. Honestly, up to this point, Corbin had not considered doing that. He had been away from the church so long, and most young men went on missions when they were 19. Corbin was now 21. As he thought about it, he became very excited! He could be a missionary, and I was happy and eager to support him in that. He began to prepare his application papers and submitted them to our bishop.

Before the bishop and stake president were able to send Corbin's papers to church headquarters, a general authority was visiting our stake, and asked to speak with Corbin. During that interview, the general authority asked Corbin about his time of inactivity, as well as his worthiness and desire to serve as a full time missionary. He signed Corbin's papers, then sat quietly looking into his eyes for several moments. Then he spoke. "Corbin, do you have a young lady in your life who loves you and will be waiting for you?" Corbin then told him about me, and the general authority continued, "I feel very impressed to tell you that you should stay here, marry that girl, and start your family." This was very unexpected, not something that happens EVER, and there were many questions and speculations abounding. But Corbin and I followed that council, and were married several months later.

To our surprise, we quickly became pregnant with our wonderful little Iver. Only seven months after his birth, we found ourselves pregnant again with our beautiful, sweet Shakira. We were very young, and very unprepared, but we somehow made it. And we found incredible joy in the journey. My body was not able to conceive again after Shakira was born. This is truly the miracle. Iver and Shakira were both born in the little window of time when Corbin would have been on his mission. Had he gone, and not followed the council of the general authority, we would not have them.

As you know, I have a heart full of gratitude right now. With Thanksgiving tomorrow, I cannot stop thinking of my precious little family, of this most sacred gift. I am so, so, so crazy-thankful.

Thankful on November 21, 2010

As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I have many opportunities to serve others. I am able to serve the people I attend church with, as well as others in my community from many different walks of life. This service takes many forms...bringing a meal to someone who is ill or has just had a baby, visiting with someone who is lonely, giving a ride to someone who doesn't have their own transportation, holding a fussy child when a mother is overwhelmed, clearing weeds from a grave of a woman who played an important part in making my city a wonderful one. Basically, just keeping my eyes open and looking for those who might need me. Of course, these are things that I should do, not because of my membership in any church, but because I just strive to be a nice person. I do appreciate, however, the reminders that I can and should reach out.

One of the things that I truly love about my church are the formal "calls to serve." I have held many callings throughout my life, and have been abundantly blessed as I accepted and tried to magnify those callings. I have learned new skills. I have become closer to God as I have relied on Him for inspiration on how to best serve those in my stewardship. I have come to understand the infinite and beautiful love of the Savior for all mankind. I have been taken care of in my own life and family. I have associated with people who I will forever call my friends. Each experience has been precious to me.

For most of my adult life, I have served with the youth of the church. Oh, I adore teenagers! I love that stage of life, when wings are being spread, when parents are being questioned, when a child becomes her very own person. I love that this is a time of discovery, of finding out for one's self. And I loved being part of this time of life for many young men and women.

I have served in many capacities in the Young Women's organization. I've camped, I've counciled, I've presided. I've bonded with many of the most extraordinary girls you will ever meet. They are all part of my story. Some of the most sacred experiences of my life happened when I served with the Young Women, and came to know the incredible love that Heavenly Father has for his daughters.

I have spent many years as a youth Sunday School teacher, sharing the scriptures with young men and women both. I have seen, several times over, "a mighty change of heart." I have experienced young people being touched deeply by the scriptures and resolving to live their lives as faithful servants of God. I have been with them as they attended the temple, I have watched them go on full-time missions, I have seen some of them happily marry and start lovely families. All of these people own a piece of my heart.

The ward in which I now reside is a small one, and the need to serve is great. For the past year, I have held three callings, one of them being youth Sunday School teacher. I also serve as the meal coordinator for the four full-time missionaries who serve in our ward boundaries. These missionaries are young adults who give two years of their lives to serve the Lord with no distractions. They put aside education, family and friends, and all worldly influences. They pay for these missions themselves. As members of the church, we are asked to provide one meal a day for them, and I facilitate that, inviting people to feed them each day.

For the past couple weeks, some of the guidelines for feeding the missionaries have been changed. It has become evident that these two callings are colliding a little bit. So today, I was released as a Sunday School teacher so I could focus my efforts on caring for our missionaries. This was not easy for me. My two students, Emily and Ann, are so dear to me...we have learned and grown together, and have such thoughtful discussions about the Old Testament that we've been studying. It is hard to step away from them. But an awesome new teacher has been called and I know they are in good hands.

How much I love our missionaries!!! Can you think of a better place for me to serve right now?! Corbin and I have them in our home often, at least twice a month, to share our dinner with them. We invite them to bring people with them who are investigating our church, and have had such uplifting, spiritual discussions in our home. One of those investigators lately has become one of my dear friends, and another one is one of Iver and Shakira's best friends. I feel such joy in these experiences and in taking care of the missionaries, and hope to better inspire others to do the same.

This calling helps me feel very close to Iver, my own son who is on his mission in Mexico City. I know that as I fulfill it to the best of my ability, with my heart and soul poured into this service, that my Iver will be fed and loved and cared for. Ultimately tonight, that is why I am crazy-thankful.

Thankful on November 17, 2010

Corbin and I have lots of fun. We always have. There is nothing better than being married to your best friend, someone who knows absolutely everything about you, and STILL loves to be with you.

It has always been important to us to enjoy one on one time together, so since the beginning of us, there has always been date night. Some of my dear readers may be the victims of trying to come between us and our date night, and know first hand the ferocity with which we defend it! There is (almost) nothing that can cause us to forgo date night. Perhaps this is one of the secrets of a long and happy marriage? Well, since we have been happily married for a very long time, I say yes!

There was a time when money was very scarce, and babies were very demanding. Going out was next to impossible. So date night was a $5.00 Little Caesar's Pizza in the living room with a $1.00 movie rental. Picking out the movie at the video store (no DVDs in the world yet!) was half of the fun. I remember a night when we were at that video store, me pregnant with Shakira and sticking WAY out to there, and little bitty Iver on Corbin's shoulders. We were perusing the many choices for our movie that night when I snuggled up close to Corbin and reached in for a playful little pinch. To my absolute horror, it was not Corbin's butt in my hands, but a complete stranger's butt, very embarrassed by my mistaken affections!

We sometimes would strap the babies into snuggies and walk up Little Bear Creek, or have a picnic under our favorite tree. As they got older, we made more of an attempt to leave them with a grandma and go out by ourselves. We always loved to eat out on those occasions! One of out favorite dates was sleeping outside (when we lived on the side of the mountain) on the trampoline, under the beautiful stars (one of the things we miss about the mountain). Only occasionally would we be disrupted by a curious black bear!

Now that we are empty-nesters, it's almost like every night is date night! We still set aside Friday nights, usually for dinner and a movie out, or dinner out with friends. We have also added one...every Tuesday or Wednesday is wings and pool night at the Stockyard Saloon. Corbin beats me every time, that turkey. But perhaps our favorite date lately is completely impromptu....Ice cream at Little Man! Little Man is a giant milk can, situated on a hill in the Highlands neighborhood, overlooking the most beautiful angle of downtown, and it's just minutes from our house. We often run into friends there, on the same impromptu date!

I'm quite confident that successful relationships require a little bit of effort...like the hard, hard work of going out to eat Little Man ice cream! I treasure my Corbin and our date nights. Crazy-thankful.

Thankful on November 10, 2010

Warning: This might be a long one.

For eighteen years the Corbin-and-Michelle-Johnson-family lived on the side of a mountain. OK, OK, it was a lovely mountain, in the summertime. But Michelle is not a mountain woman. As I begin this post, I realize that I may sound whiny, wimpy and ungrateful as I describe this part of my life, but please understand that I must express these feelings so that I might convey the magnitude of the joy I feel now.

Our living conditions on that mountain were not easy for me. In fact, as I look back, I actually think I was able to muster incredible strength from somewhere very deep, strength that not everyone might have been able to find. I'm eternally grateful that there was strength to be found.

Our home on the side of the mountain was a five hundred square foot "cottage". It had no heat source, beyond a wood stove, so for twelve of those eighteen years, we heated with wood. We would wake up each morning, able to see our breath, with ice sometimes 1/4" thick on the insides of the windows. I remember layering our babies with two or three blanket sleepers at night, because I was so worried about them kicking off the covers! As the years went by, the mountain pushed on our house, causing large gaps in the door and window frames. We would do our best to fill those gaps, with foam or wood or stuffed-in old rags and towels. Finally, for the last six years we were there, we were able to get a pellet-stove, which meant heat all the time (as long as we kept the pellets well stocked) including while we were away at work and at night. No more coming home and spending an hour trying to warm up our house and pipes!

The winters were especially difficult. We had more than our share of three, four, even SEVEN foot snowstorms (I am completely serious). On time to work in the winter? Are you kidding? And the funny part was that no one ever believed we were digging out our endless driveway of two feet of snow when they had only a one inch sprinkle in town. The seven foot snowstorm required a week and a front-end loader. Did I mention that we had no power that week?!! I digress...I reluctantly became an expert at tire chains. Always such a joy to lay under a car in a skirt on the way to work. And my children could tell you story after story of our car spinning 360 degree-style down Hidden Valley Road (and yes, it was an all-wheel drive).

Our intention as a young married couple was always to move on, to something more practical, as our children came into the world. But when the children came, so did unemployment and a depressed economy. So we made do. Through the years, we often saw glimmers of hope that we would be able to make a change, Corbin's growing business, my ability to go back to work and not just try to make money from my kitchen. But year after year after year, those hopes were squashed by the unexpected. Broken down cars, my lovely illness with it's therapy and hospitalizations, months without paychecks as Corbin's business became established, several surgeries, bigger and bigger school fees, ridiculous commute expenses, cancer and broken down shoulders, and the list goes on and on. We couldn't seem to get ahead. We had no choice but to try to make a home out of the cottage. So we stuffed Iver in one little attic bedroom, Shakira in the other, and Corbin and I made our bedroom out of a futon in the living room. We did our best. There was a point where I thought that this was how it would always be. I would have to be OK with never having our kids friends hang out at our house, with Iver and Shakira wanting to spent their time as teenagers at their friend's houses, with never having the privacy of our own bedroom. I would just have to brace myself every winter to climb into the well house and thaw out the pipes with a blow dryer. I would always have at least a thirty minute drive to go anywhere. We would constantly be fixing the many things going wrong with our taped together old house.

Then came 2007. That is when life REALLY got difficult. I addition to everything I have mentioned, Corbin and I each had an hour commute to and from work, that was getting longer and longer, and more expensive with record gas prices. Iver and Shakira were both in high school and had MANY places to be. Iver had begun to drive, so I had that lovely mother-worry about his long drives up and down the mountain late at night. And, we were just not seeing each other. We would get home around 7:30 at night, try to put something on the table for dinner, then fall into bed, only to start again by leaving at 5:00 the next morning. None of us were happy. So we began to pray for a miracle. We knew that's what it would take.

And just like that, things began to fall into place. Our children were not upset with the possibility of being uprooted. Our income now allowed for a modest house payment. We set out looking for a new home IN THE CITY! It took awhile, as we looked at many neighborhoods, homes, and schools. One evening, Corbin left five excited messages for me while I was in a yoga class. He had found our home!

We visited it that weekend. Scary neighborhood, I thought, but the beautifully remodeled house was like a dream to me! We could just stay inside! We decided to fast and pray about it...find out for ourselves if this was the place we should be. That Sunday, we took our kids to the church building we would be attending if we were to make this move. We all loved it immediately and overwhelmingly. Then next morning we called our realtor and put together an offer. Several hours later we found out that an offer had already been made and accepted the day before. I was devastated. I gave up. But not my Corbin. We had received an answer to our prayers, and he was determined to figure something out.

Corbin learned that the builder who had done the home we fell in love with was working on another property, several blocks away. He hesitantly agreed to let us meet him there.

We went under contract on our home when it was just a shell. It had been gutted and was being completely rebuilt, a 110 year old house on the outside, brand new house on the inside. I have absolutely no vision. After all of the run-down old houses (the ones in our price range) I had been looking at for months, I should have been frightened and discouraged the moment I walked through the door. But I wasn't. This time I felt incredible peace and joy. I felt immediately that this was our home.

We have now lived in this home for two and a half years. THERE HAS NOT BEEN ONE TIME I HAVE WALKED THROUGH THAT DOOR AND NOT FELT THE SAME PEACE AND JOY THAT I FELT THAT FIRST DAY. I love our home on Marion Street. I love the diversity of the neighborhood, the entertainment that provides. I love our next door neighbors. I love my adorable little porch and the gigantic trees that shade the front yard. I love the teeny-tiny bit of snow that we get in the winter. I love my garage. I love the ten minute drive to work. I love our crazy little church. I love that we have an awesome space for a garden. I love my bamboo floors and big chocolate moldings. I love my exposed brick walls. I love my gigantic kitchen with concrete countertops. I love my fabulous garbage disposal and my dishwasher. I love that my children have their own big beautiful rooms with tall ceilings. I love Iver's eight foot door. I love that we have two bathrooms with beautiful fixtures and flawless plumbing. I ADORE our master suite! I love my closet. I love that, when I'm a bit chilly, I can walk over to the thermostat, push the up button twice, and get marvelous warm air blowing out of the vents! I love the experience my children had at east high school. I love the amazing people who are their friends. And I love that those friends love to hang out at our house!

I know that eighteen years on the side of a mountain helped form all four of us into the people we are now, and for those experiences I am truly grateful. But for the miracle of our little home on Marion Street, I am giddy, crazy-thankful!