It Was Somebody’s Home

Somebody’s Home
24×30 Oil

How many times have you seen an old home and wondered about the people who lived there? Honestly, that is one of the recurring conversations I have with myself. And for some reason, it’s not just the big, beautiful houses that get my attention. Visually, I am drawn to small cabins, old shacks, log homes…and imagining the impoverished lifestyles of my ancestors.

No, I didn’t grow up on a farm. But my parents did, so I’ve heard the stories. My mother, the youngest of thirteen children, told me that she didn’t realize how poor she was as a child until much later, because everyone was poor during the Great Depression. My father grew up in the hills of North Georgia in a home that looked similar to this one, not uncommon for the time and location. He stated that he went to college to get out from behind a mule and plow.

I took a photo of this cabin at George Ranch, near Rosenberg, Texas. No one was living there. It is well maintained as a historical site. Back in my studio, I imagined the people who could have lived in this shotgun house. I knew there had to be a woman shelling butter beans on the front porch. There must have been some chickens running around, providing eggs and meat in the pot for a special meal. I imagined the man in the back, hammering or fixing something on a worktable. And there probably were children running around barefoot. (But they were moving too fast in my imagination to capture them here!)

It was Somebody’s Home! And I hope it was filled with love. For, whether one is living in poverty or riches, if a home has love, it can withstand the storms, sure to come! This one did.

Dwelling

dwelling – (noun) a house, apartment, or other place of residence. a home, accommodation, lodging, abode.

(verb) to live or stay as a permanent resident; reside. to live or continue in a given condition or state: to dwell in happiness.

melaniestokesart.com
Dwelling
24×24 Oil

This Dwelling has become Home until further notice. It was offered as a place to stay until our new home in the country could be completed. All of our furniture, pots and pans, sheets and towels, books and pictures, are in boxes in a storage unit, waiting for the day they can be reopened and put to use. Meanwhile, we are “dwelling” in this furnished “dwelling” on 85 acres of rolling ranch land in Texas.

We have been here about three months now. That is long enough for me to realize I have come to a place of contentment, most days, about living here. It took me a while to get to this point.

It’s not that I’m ungrateful. I’m so grateful for the opportunity to be here, the provision of a place to stay, and the friendship of the owner. But the challenges of being in a new place, upstairs/downstairs, not my things, no dishwasher, outside laundry room, unfamiliar noises, cows all over the place, and a cold prairie wind, all took a toll at first. There were no huge challenges, just the little things we like to whine about as we fall deeper into discontent.

There was also some fear involved, though I fought it with all my might… Fear of being in a new environment, fear of this Waco traffic, fear that a mouse could be lurking in the laundry room, fear of big cows staring at me and getting ready to attack, fear of the tin roof blowing off in a windstorm, fear of us not finding the right contractor for our building project, fear of our retirement budget not being enough, fear that I would never sell another painting… Fear becomes irrational and can spiral into frenzy.

This past Sunday, the pastor said one thing (well, maybe more than one thing) that spoke to me. “Fear is the contracting impulse of the soul.” – St. Thomas Aquinas

I thought about how fear keeps our soul from growing, from loving, from trusting, from experiencing contentment. I’ve known this for years in my aged wisdom! Yet, I realized that these last three months of dwelling in this dwelling have been somewhat of a laboratory for God to continue teaching me about being content with the present day, to continue trusting Him, and to let go of fear.

As I painted, I thought about all that brings contentment in this present time: a place to dwell for now, daily companionship with my husband, the provision of new friends in a new place, these acres to roam on daily walks, beautiful scenes and changing skies to paint every day, peace with God, new mercies and grace every morning, and Blue Bell ice cream in the freezer.(!)

As I was debating this move to Texas, I told some of you, “Trust is my mantra.” I’m exercising the Trust Factor. And, I’m still learning to dwell in the present and be content. This dwelling is helping to teach me.

“… and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Psalm 23:6 The Psalmist was learning contentment, also!