Height marked on a Wall

Oh my it has been a long while since I blogged. School is getting crazy, life is picking up, and to take thoughts from my journal and put them on here...that takes time that I don't have. It is something I want to try to do more often though, so don't give up on me!


Yesterday morning I sat in my little sister's room at 6 am and worked on homework, drinking coffee as my Dad painted it LIME green. It is part of her Christmas present from my Mimi to have her room redone, and my Daddy has NO time in his life to paint it, so Thanksgiving morning, that was his time. I also have about 6 projects on my plate right now that have to be done before I return to school, one of which involved research and could be done while talking. You see, Daddy and I talk over coffee EVERY morning. We have since I could drink coffee, and before that he made me hot chocolate and called it coffee. It is our time, before the world wakes up, to catch up and digest life. Together.

Yesterday we took time to talk about the door in Josie's room. Yes. The door. He was going to change the door and give her a "suweet new one," but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't even bring himself to paint this nasty, busted, drawn over door. That door looks like an old door, but on the side it holds the growth chart of the Edwards family, including Momma and Daddy from when Taylor, Josie, and I decided they needed to be measured too. I can stand next to that door and see when I stood knee height to myself. It is crazy. I can see when I hit my growth spurts, and when my growing leveled off. I can look back at heights and dates and remember stories that go with those times. I remember that day as the day Taylor and I ran down the hallway pulling eachother on blankets like sleds and got in trouble for crashing into the table and knocking over a picture frame. It was when she was blonde Taylor, with bouncy curls, HUGE dimples that took up her whole face, carried around her Barney stuffed animal all the time, and had a laugh that would make me do ANYTHING again. Oh, and I remember that Josie, she came up to right here on me, cried 24/7, and was Momma's baby. BUT, it was that Josie who ran around in her diaper, only her diaper, and a Native American headdress and had the whole family laughing, although she was 100% serious.

As Daddy and I were talking about those heights, dates, precious girls, and memories, they woke up one at a time and came in. Josie, rubbing her eyes and hearing us laughing walks in and says loudly, "You would have to be high to paint a room at 7 in the morning! This paint is making you high isn't it?" Taylor continues when she comes in by saying one line before she sits down. "Wow. Looks like a big booger in here." :D Ridiculous.

Each of those lines, each of those heights holds a million laughs that those little girls and I have shared. A million good times that make up for any sad, bad, angry, "downer" times (as Josie like to say.) The exciting part is that those laughs and great memories are only getting started for the three of us. My height marker has stopped, and Taylor's is slowing down, but we have so many memories to fit into that last line. Oh goodness, Josie just woke up...they are getting started now.

This is home

There is something to say for home. I don't think you can truly appreciate it until you are away from that place that feels like home. Being at school has taught me to really appreciate the place where I spent all of my life. When I reach 52 North and see the Rural Hall exit, I can't help but smile. Not because it is a particularly spectacular place, because it is not. Not because there is never a dull moment, because those sneak up on you from time to time.I smile because I am home. When I pull into my driveway and am met not just with a hello, but with the screams and laughter of two little sisters, I know. When I calm them down and walk to hug my mom, I know. When I look up and see my dad standing there, waiting patiently for the last hug, I know. I know I am home. I know I am in a place where I can let my guard down. A place where I can be myself. A place where love surrounds me and judgement fades. It is here that I can express the greatest fears of my heart, and those fears will be comforted. It is here that I share the lofty dreams that tumble through my head, and those dreams, no matter how seemingly unattainable, are supported and encouraged. It is here that I am challenged and humbled. It is here that I am inspired and motivated. It is here that I am home.

I have often wondered when that place of home will change for me. When it will no longer be Rural Hall, but when it will be Raleigh, Africa, Central America, Chicago, or wherever God leads me in the future. The truth is, I don't think that place of home will ever change. Sure, the building may change. The city may change. The country may change. That place of home, however, that will never change. It will always be that place where I am surrounded by my family. This, this is home.

Enjoy Each Moment

I am beginning to get a little homesick, something that I do not want to admit. I have not been home in a few months, and it is beginning to take its toll. I have always been extremely close with my sisters, and every time I talk to them I find out new (and life changing) things that are going on in their lives. My youngest sister is running for class president. I am so proud of the woman she is becoming. She is her own person. She doesn't follow the crowd, she stands up for her beliefs, she is brilliant, she is beautiful. I hate that I am missing the key growing points in her life. In a year she will transition from middle to highschool, and I won't be there. I am afraid I am not going to know when she makes National Honor Society, or when a boy asks her out, or when she picks out the perfect prom dress. It started with the small details. I didn't know what shirt she was wearing or who she was talking to on the phone. From there it grew. I didn't know that she made an "A" in math. The details of her life keep getting more and more fuzzy. And what is worse is that this is not only true for one sister, but for two. Taylor is walking through her sophomore year of highschool. She is experiencing the struggles of a teenage girl, and I am not just across the hall anymore. And the scary thing is that she doesn't call. I miss both of them so much that it hurts. I don't want to blink for fear of missing something. But I can't live life like that. And so I just have to enjoy each moment I get to spend with them, each time I get to hear their voices on the phone, each surprise text and letter in the mail. I just have to be there to love them no matter what. We share a bond that time and distance can't break. Those two beautiful ladies will ALWAYS be my sisters, and for that I will always be thankful.