There's no place like home.

Welcome to my home: A morning with coffee and panda.

I struggle with sitting still. I'm always on the go and I don't mind it. When I find I have nothing on the schedule on a Saturday, I panic knowing I've surely forgotten to pencil something in. If you see me on the phone and I start pacing through the house, that's a good indication to turn around and walk away. It's just very difficult for me to be still.

A year ago, I purchased my childhood home from my mother. A home I lived in for 18 years and probably spent 15 of those years dreaming of the day I could leave. We were a family of six living in a two-bedroom, one-bath home. Four girls and two guys. Just imagine. Are you imagining? Yep, that’s how it went.

As you may have read in my previous post, my parents would put up a wall in the living room at times, making a ”third bedroom.” I’ve inserted quotes because that third bedroom would not be included in a real estate listing because it lacked a closet but I‘m also inserting quotes because I’ve since had a closet larger than this bedroom. But, if you can fit a twin bed in it and close the door away from everyone else, it has heavenly qualities.

My brother moved out the moment the clock struck his 17th birthday. Yes, he was ornery and a little rebellious, but I’m pretty sure the main reason was because we lived a small house with one bathroom. Four girls and two guys.

Of us four siblings, I’m sure I’m the last one any of us thought would ever want to live in our childhood home again, let alone pay to live there. I thought the same thing but God can be absolutely hilarious at times. It’s amazing what a renovation budget and some talented friends with a much greater vision than myself can do to transform a place.

While my childhood could be depressing to some, sharing it with my siblings makes the good times outweigh the tough times. The memories of holding church out in the barn, riding our bikes on the back porch by the window perfectly placed to play the role of a drive-thru McDonalds window and playing baseball in the front yard where God had strategically planted trees to act as first, second and third base. Of all the things that property was or was not…it was home.

While being still is difficult for me, there are times where I crave getting home to my spot on the couch, nestled under my panda blanket while I sip coffee out of whichever mug is speaking to me (or clean, a lot depends on which mug is clean).

There was a time in my life where it wasn’t so much a craving to get to this spot at home to relax, but more like if I can just survive this next hour at work, I can get back to a safe place to hide under my panda blanket. If I could just get to that spot and go to sleep, I won’t have to deal with the pain.

But, God…

As God brought me through the excruciating heartbreak of divorce and the desperate need to retreat back home so I could embrace my depression and not try to hide it, he’s restored the meaning of what that spot on the couch with a cup of coffee means for me.

Those Saturdays when I realize there’s nothing on the schedule, I embrace the stillness. Well, at least for an hour. I’m clearly still a work in progress in the stress and anxiety department. But, in that stillness, I read, listen to a podcast and pray. And… I also do very less spiritual stuff like watch Gilmore Girls and the early episodes of Roseanne. (Judge not, lest ye be judged. Matthew 7:1)

I love going to new places. New coffee shops, bookstores and hometown boutiques and I can't wait to explore more of those with you. But, I don't want to lose sight of the place I feel most comfortable at. My favorite place to drink a cup of coffee. The place my best friends poured hours into bringing a vision to life. The place where, as I typed this article, my son came and found me at and snuggled in next to me under my panda blanket.

There's no place like home. This home shaped my family. Four girls and two guys.