Heart of the Home

Humor is mankind’s greatest blessing

– Mark Twain

Signing the chart when we arrived at the doctor’s office, I had Tyson on my hip and a question for the receptionist when I heard yelling from the bathroom in the waiting area lobby. Everyone waiting kind of perked up to listen in. I knew it was Charlotte. The next word I heard was, “EVA!” I closed my eyes and told the receptionist I would be right back. Trying to bring order to the bathroom and tissue holder, I heard the nurse call out, “Howard.” I cringed and told them, “You better march out of this bathroom and behave! Is that clear?”

This past spring, we were set up on the square during a local craft fair; I was stopping Charlotte at the spigot of lemonade, telling her, kindly, with my firm hand around her little one, “Enough. Don’t pour another glass,” as the lady at my booth was perusing past my books. Eva, from behind me, was chorusing, “Mom, mom, mom…” and Tyson was sitting with Chuck, screaming for a bottle and nap. Trying to smile and look completely interested in what the lady was saying and tuned out to the events around me, I reached down, grabbed my own wallet, removed my debit card, and proceeded to swipe and bag the books the lady purchased. She looked baffled while I smiled and hung the bag across my table for her to take. She finally bolstered the courage to say, “Excuse me, but I think you just bought your own books.” Without skipping a beat, I responded, “I don’t doubt it a bit.” I could see Chuck out of the corner of my eye watching me, shaking his head.

I found myself knee-deep in puppy milk, supper cleaned up, soccer practice, and two little ones calling out for me to watch one more time. Charlotte was dancing in her Elsa dress with heels, and my handsome prince, Tyson, was wobbling in his jumper. Dishes were high, and time was short. Chuck came up behind me to hug me, and I responded shortly, “Not now.” I just want to get done with no distractions. Without a word, he rolled up his sleeves and found his usual spot beside me, together getting the jobs done for the evening.

My heart sank; the kitchen floor had lost its dance and the melody of pretend disappeared in my exhausted state. While I was flowing through the nightly routine, my father’s words rang in my ears: “Those are moments you can’t get back; plan for the next one.”

My mother has always said, “I may have been the heart of the home, but your father was the glue.” My father knew how to hold the family together. He looked for opportunities to show affection to my mother. The kitchen always had a dance and song, even when she was busy. The days must be completed, and a quiet hush must find the evening hours, but without the crazy, wonderful, silliness and the moments for tenderness, it just becomes scrubbing toothpaste out of sinks and lining up shoes on the rack.

It is right to begin with the obligations of home and while these are overlooked and neglected, no other duties can possibly be substituted for them.

Charlotte Mason

Chuck was heading out of the country that day, and I was keeping with my regular early morning schedule when I realized I needed to “plan for the next one.” I stopped what I was doing and ran to give him a hug, which I should have stopped for the night before. It was quiet during those early morning hours, which is rare. I spent my quiet time with him, just being together. I want my family to know that I see them. Not so I can write it in a book, but so when the years pass, they never question where I was. After all, I am the heart of my home.

I wish I could tell you that I respond correctly in all situations, that tempers never flare, and that the days are never long. However, that is just not so. Learning to find the moments that enrich the days helps me see hidden blessings I would have otherwise missed. Laughter always threads the day with sunshine. Anne of Green Gables said, “Life is worth living so long as there is a laugh in it.”

I received a note in the mail from a friend. She thanked me for the supper, company, and fellowship. She encouraged me that what you do behind closed doors will show up when presented to the public: the fellowship you have in your home with your family, the time you take to set the table, visit together, and work together—cleaning baseboards and changing sheets. It’s in the chores and work that the music shows up.

I heard a story not long ago about a kitchen that was being remodeled. When it came time to buy a new table, the purchase was halted. The old table, which no longer fit the newly remodeled modern kitchen, held indents from years of homework, scrapings from family dinners, and stains from arts and crafts. In all the transformation, the old table and all it held remained.

Turning down the beds and preparing for the night, the girls crawled up on my bed to wait for me. I walked into the bathroom closet and shut the door; I heard Eva shout, “We don’t want you to shut the door; we can’t hear you if you do.” As I finished up and came around the corner of the bathroom, I saw that Tyson and Chuck had added themselves to the bed. Of all the orders I bark throughout the day, spankings that get dished out, and mediating fights I patch up – they are still looking for my sounds, looking for my affection, and my presence. You are the heart of your home. You will set the tone, the atmosphere.

God is a family man. It’s his heartbeat. He designed the home after his heart and created it to stand the test of time. When the home operates the way God intended, it cannot fail. Fight for your homes, your children, and your marriage. Be the heart of your home. Show up. Whether you work outside or not, you are called to the home. Give yourself to it. Don’t pass through, but stay awhile.

Search me, Oh God, and know my heart; Try me, and know my anxieties; see if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me the way everlasting. Psalms 139:23-24

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