“Who I AM and Why I AM Here” is a writing topic that I have been assigned from the blogging world but lately I am constantly asking myself, “Who AM I and Why AM I Here?”  The first is a statement.  The second is a question.  Right now, I prefer the question.

So, who am I?

I have always been drawn to the idea of taking a leap of faith.  Even the statement, “taking a leap of faith” appeals to who I am at the very core of me.  A dancer since preschool, leaping through the air is a great passion of mine and faith… well… faith is my language.  I am the most content when I am alone in prayer with Jesus.  Not trying to be a weirdo; I just have to be honest.

Lately hope has  become my new obsession.  Maybe it is because we live in a world that seems to be inundated with the doom of impending apocalyptic scenarios that I have become infatuated with the idea of hope.  Or maybe it’s because I am living way out of my comfort zone in a small country town just clinging onto a thread of hope that I will witness a miracle coming to fruition.  Or maybe it’s because I am a work from home mom just trying to survive through the daily grind while simultaneously attempting to renovate a 118 year old Victorian era house and supporting my husband in the start of his law practice.  Breathe.  Sigh.  Hope.

So, why am I here?

I wake up every day wondering how I got here.  How did I end up in a small town living in a 118 year old house with flower speckled wallpaper?  This is so not me.  I am not that kind of girl who likes renovating houses and country living.  No.  I am a city girl.  I thrive on the energy of traffic and diversity and progressive thinking and anonymity and amenities galore.  Don’t get me wrong, small town living definitely has its charm and there are plenty of wonderful people around these parts.  Nonetheless, it has been quite the adjustment for me.

Again, why am I here?

Faith.

Hope.

I am here because I feel in my bones that me and my family belong in this house.  Even if the only reason why we moved to this town and into this house is so that I could have plenty of stories to write about, that is fine with me because I just know that I belong here.   I am in the right place.  Why is this the right place?  I don’t know but I am willing to get to the bottom of the great mystery that is God’s sense of humor to move our little family to a small town (something we swore that we would never do).

In the almost 2 years that we have lived in this house, I have discovered that there is an amazing beauty that is lurking around the mundane and trivial pursuits of life.  In a way, this house has revived me.  While I feel like we are constantly renovating the house, I think it’s actually the house that is piecing me back together through the labor of love. I guess that’s  why I decided to start a blog about the quirky stories behind renovating and living in this old house.  It was something that I felt just needed to be done.

I don’t know where this is going but I couldn’t keep running from the fiery urge to share some of the beauty that surrounds this house even though the house sometimes feels like it is falling apart.  But that’s exactly it: WE are beautiful even when we feel we are falling apart. This little project is my great leap of faith into the vast unknown that is the internet. I hope that you will visit and dance with me a little.

For more of the story check out my first post “The Renovation of My Heart”