The Heart of a Home

It's hard to believe we've been in our new home for eight months.

A few weeks ago, I read an article by Charlotte Moss about moving. She wrote about grieving the home she left behind while finding joy in the one she was creating. It stayed with me because I realized every house Stephen and I have shared has held a chapter of our family's story.

This is the fourth home we've lived in since we've been married.

Our first was the sweetest little ranch house on Gray Circle. We bought it from the original owners and slowly made it our own. It was filled with bright, happy colors, and Sue Carroll made the kitchen drapes that are still probably my favorite drapes I've ever had.

Next came Deerfield Drive with green kitchen cabinets, a tangerine guest bath, and a purple dining room. Looking back, I smile at every one of those bold color choices. It was a happy house where our kids were little, neighbors became dear friends, and there always seemed to be someone around our table.

When Willa was just one, we moved to Zion Crossing.

To say our kids had a magical childhood there would be an understatement.

At one point there were nineteen children living on our street. Bikes lined the driveways, someone was always knocking on the door, and our house became one of the gathering places. Looking back, I think that's where our children learned that the best meals are shared with lots of people. Even today, I don't think they believe it's really a family dinner unless grandparents, neighbors, girlfriends, cousins, and friends have squeezed another chair around the table.

As the kids grew older, Stephen and I started dreaming about our next chapter. We talked about buying a farm, but eventually realized we're just not farmers. Then our dream house downtown unexpectedly came on the market. Two acres, mature trees, and plenty of room for gathering. It felt like home before we ever unpacked a box.

This move was different from all the others. Instead of rushing, I spent a month cleaning out closets, donating things we no longer needed, and packing with intention. I thought I was simply preparing for a move. Looking back, I was preparing for a new season.

Eight months later, I'm still settling into new rhythms.

Our boys are adults now. Instead of sports schedules, we talk about careers and what's next. We've been blessed with the sweetest girlfriends who have become part of our family, and Ginger and Alys have decided every squirrel downtown is their responsibility.

Life looks different than it did ten years ago.

Not better.

Not worse.

Just beautifully different.

I've realized I don't have to choose between loving the memories we made in our old homes and embracing this one. Those memories will always be part of us. This house simply gets the privilege of holding the next chapter.

Maybe that's what home really is.

It's not about perfect decorating or having everything just right. It's about creating a place where people feel welcome, conversations linger around the table, and ordinary Tuesday nights quietly become the memories you'll treasure years from now.

So this week, pull out the pretty dishes. Light the good candle. Invite someone over. There will always be another reason to wait, but there may not always be another Tuesday.

With love,

Rachel

P.S. If you're looking for a few beautiful pieces to make everyday hospitality feel a little more special, I'd love for you to browse some of my favorites at Ye Peddler Home. View Here