As of yesterday, my mom is officially a homeowner for the first time in her life. Being the wife of a preacher for many years and living in parsonages provided by the church, she never has had the luxury of having a space that she could truly call her own. After my parents separated, she moved from apartment to apartment trying to find a place to settle. As anyone could probably imagine, she quickly grew tired of the apartment life and decided it was time to do something about it.
As I type this, she is at her new house, lovingly cleaning it from top to bottom. She is preparing the house for the grueling process of moving all of her belongings into it tomorrow. She is as giddy as a child on Christmas morning. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother so truly excited about anything. Owning her own home is a dream that she thought would never be a reality.
I’m so proud of her for going through with this and making her dream a reality. Even though she is nervous and terrified of the payments and the responsibility, this is a huge step in her life. I’ll admit that I’m a little tired of hearing about the house, blinds, curtains, shower curtains, and everything that goes along with making a house a home, but deep down I’m just so very happy for her.
Tomorrow all three of her children, our spouses, and kids will gather up, load all of her belongings into a big truck, drive to her new house, then unload it all. Then we will spend the evening with her arranging and setting up all of her furniture. We will celebrate a dream come true for our mother, who never thought she would see this day happen.