We started a new mural in this house today.
It is a quaint 10,000 square foot chateau on Tour 18, a very prestigious gated golf course community. The home boasts garages for 5 cars, at least 5 fireplaces, a kitchen the size of a bowling alley, and guest quarters that could house a couple of 3rd world families.
It's very impressive.
We marveled at the neighborhood as we drove through. Home after home of incredible taste and distinction. Wow, they are beautiful. Many already had crews of men putting up elaborate Christmas displays. I'll bet it's a sight to see during the holidays, all lit up.
I enjoy seeing the beauty and artistry that money can buy. All the world's finest art, sculpture and architecture that we appreciate today has been funded by wealthy patrons of the arts through the centuries. And I love to see the textures, the finishes, the rarest materials, and the imagination that goes into creating these dream homes.
But I felt a little lost, going through the maze of rooms inside this home today. The children's rooms seemed awfully far away from the master suite. And the cavernous media room was in a wing that was a flight of stairs and several hallways from the kitchen. A person's food would be cold by the time you took your plate up to eat in front of a movie. You'd never be able to hear each other yelling from one room to another. And you'd have a hard time even finding each other if everyone was in their own room.
I guess that's why I like our humble house. You're not going to get lost going from the kitchen to the "Back Room," as we call it. The hallway to the back has a ceiling so low you can almost palm it. I think whoever built this house forgot to leave room for the pipes and just had to make the ceiling lower in that spot in order to run them. Oops.
Tom is going to paint our Barn House this week. After searching high and low for a color with more "WOW" factor, we settled on one that is almost exactly like what we already have. I guess we like the humble yellow, too.
There aren't any manicured walkways leading to our little spot back here. We're barely able to manage those doggone weeds that grow so fast. But when I turn our yard light on at night, there is magic in the air. The fall leaves that skipped across those fancy streets today are the same kind that fall in our gravel driveway. And the air smells just as good, if not better. The evening breeze tells me that cooler nights are coming, and that our little place will be just the kind of shelter we need most in this world.
Our home is our refuge. It's not a statement on who we are or what we've accomplished. It is more than that. It's the place where we circle the wagons and relish the safety and love that's found in the people who live here. It's not fancy. But it's real, and it keeps the treasure of our family within its walls and under its sloping roof.
It will be a pleasure to work in such a magnificent house this week. I will enjoy experiencing the fine workmanship that has gone into every detail. But I will love coming home to this place, with its worn linoleum floors and doors that stick shut. It's where abundance is measured in laughter, and riches in the depth of shared memories and tenderness.
There is no better place to live than where you are loved best.
