The Farmhouse.

Mama cut out pictures of houses for years.
From ‘Better Homes and Garden’ magazines.
Plans were drawn, and concrete poured,
And nail by nail and board by board
Daddy gave life to mama’s dream.
– Miranda Lambert, The House that Built Me

 

There’s a little farmhouse in the bend on my way to school.  If you’re not careful you’ll miss it in a second.  If you’re distracted, worried, or hurried, I promise you’ll pass her right by.

I’ve grown to love this little farmhouse every morning.  In fact, I look forward to passing her on my drive.

The tin roof slopes around the front porch, and I swear I can hear the pitter patter of the rain on a sleepy Sunday.  A bay window protrudes out of her brick, begging me to sit and read a while.  Nestled on her patio a bistro set sits out, and if I close my eyes I can see myself sitting outside for a morning cup of coffee with my Mimaw (black of course).  A rose bush welcomes you in as you step towards her front door.

…and that front door…

If only I would knock, I can imagine a women full of wisdom welcoming me in.  I wonder if she would have me sit a while, bringing me cookies, reminding me of the way a grandma’s doors are always open.

Oh I see this woman– an adventurous daughter… a loving mother… a faithful wife… a compassionate friend.  Perhaps she has lived her entire life behind that door.  Maybe she spent sleepless nights calming bad dreams and shivering fevers.  Years go by, and those sleepless nights run into patching broken hearts, because kids and boys can be so mean.

Maybe she sat in that bistro set on the patio, across from an empty chair, after leaving those babies in their new dorm.  Her husband quietly opens the front door, allowing it to squeak softly, to remind her of everything they ever dreamed.  She might not want to talk, but he sits there anyway because he knows.

Each morning I drive around the bend, passing this little farmhouse, and I see their lives flashing before me.  Though I’ll likely not know the story built into her walls, I hope it’s so true.  I hope there has been…there is… love, family, history, generations, and bonds that are stronger than her foundation.

And I’ll drive by, morning by morning, as her comfort of home calls from afar.

Hailey Alexander

At the ripe age of twenty-two, I found myself at a crossroads.  My life had been overcome by perfectionism and to-do lists.  The Lord put it on my heart to begin writing a blog.  This wasn’t just any blog, it was the challenge to find every joy-filled moment nestled in the smallest parts of each day.  It was a call to slow down... to open my eyes... to feel the wind... to watch the sun fall, only to rise again.  It was a call to find God in every moment.

My favorite place to seek these joys?  In the Tennessee hills with my adventurer husband, Jayson.  He helps bear the weight of the world when I find myself trying to solve the Earth’s greatest riddles.  He reminds me that there is always fun to be had.

I’d love to hear from you at haileyalexander2@outlook.com  or AnAlexanderAdventure.wordpress.com.

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