(photo courtesy of flickr)
I want a cottage style house built by my Dad near a lake. I want salvaged barn doors to pull to the side, heavy and creaking. I want built-in book shelves filled with colorful stacks of my favorite reads. I want a cute little breakfast nook and a center island where I can pack lunches. I want a pantry off the kitchen and plenty of space to cook. I want to hang and place all kinds of vintage things, picked up at estate sales by Ryan's parents. I want a really big garden full of fruits, veggies, herbs and flowers. I want a cozy space for guests to stay and kids to play above the garage. I want all of that, and yet I still want the house to be small, holding us close together so there's nowhere we can go to end up feeling like we don't belong.
I want a swing on a wrap-around porch. I want to look through the window while I sit with my husband and swing and rest. I want to see an office through the window, one with those built-in shelves full of books and french doors that lead to an entry where the staircase climbs high and is littered with family photos. I want to write in that office while the breeze comes off the lake and through my window. I want rounded doorways and crown molding. I want to look out the window to see my kids run far and fast, and then I want to watch them play for hours with nothing but sticks and rocks and water.
I want to go home. Through a swinging screen door, I want to go home. And there I want to keep the TV off and never own a video game. I want my boys to love living and people unconditionally. I want them to learn to help the world around them because they see their parents doing that. I want to make them big meals and laugh with them around the table while the chairs scrape the floors. I want to go to church on Sunday and then spend the afternoon with Nanny and Bapa, feeding the horses and smelling the flowers. I want to run into old friends in the grocery store, and then I want to stand in the aisle talking until the frozen things in my cart start to melt. I want to grow our family there in more than one way, in the country and the house by the lake.
There's nothing wrong with dreaming and hoping for a thousand different things. The renewed health of a loved one. The reconciling of a relationship. The love of a father, or mother, or husband or wife. The happiness of children. The success of a friend. There's even nothing wrong with the wanting of things, things that make your heart happy with their beauty and light, like a cottage house in the country.
Unless this wanting comes with a heavy discontent in the now and the possibly never.
So more than anything else I could want, I'd like to truly be content with exactly how things are in this very moment, even in the times when these things are difficult and painful. I can always continue to want and to dream, I just simply hope to do it with a peaceful and patient heart.