gratitude tuesday: week two

A place to call home...

What a tough week.

With the recent disaster in Haiti and the passing of Marcus Conner, I have found myself grateful for a multitude of things yet very stuck on what "week 2" of my gratitude project would be. I felt like I should have something big to commemorate the life of a wonderful man yet the subject of Haiti has also been heavy on my heart. I just knew that when I looked back on this week I would want to remember them both- they both brought so many feelings, so many tears, and an outstanding reminder of the love and compassion that people can show for a single family and for an entire country in a time of need, a time of disaster, and a time of loss.

So why the picture of our house?

At first I was thinking about how I complain about so many things when it comes to our little abode- how I want to repaint every room, how the floor never stays warm, how we only have one bathroom, how desperately we need a washing machine, the list goes on. But the truth is, I know I am so blessed to even have a house at all. I am blessed to have a roof over my head to keep me dry even though my feet are cold, I am blessed to have walls to hang up pictures of my family even if they aren't the color of my choice, and I am blessed to have a shower that spews out warm and clean water though most days I don't get to enjoy it. I am even blessed to have the mountains of clothes erupting in every hallway!

There are people in Haiti that have lost their homes and their loved ones and have nothing left but the clothes on their back. There are people who are starving, sick, and longing for a warm shower. I cannot begin to imagine how I would handle such losses, I have never been through such suffering first hand. I wish I could go to them. I wish I could do something more. I wish I had more to give.

My heart breaks for them.

And then I thought about Marcus and the first time I ever stepped foot into his home, the only time i've stepped into his home. The home he built with his own two hands. The home of a hardworking man. The home that I had heard stories about before I ever stepped foot in the place. The home where his four boys grew up. The home where his four boys returned when they recieved the worst news of their lives. A home where a wife would have to fall asleep without the man she adored next to her. A home filled with love. A home of simplicity and the basics, because really, what more do you need. A home that had visitors pouring in to mourn the loss of a great man, coach, father and husband. A home where silly made-up stories were told and awkward little monkeys were scattered about. A home filled with treasured picture albums and prized trophy plaques. A home beaming with the laughter of grandchildren week in and week out. A home that would always be a time capsule of one man's love, his life, and a million memories spent with him there. A home that would never really be the same.

My heart breaks yet again.

Marcus, I am grateful for your reminder of what a home really is. I love how much you rejoiced in the little and the much that you had. That should be every heart's desire <3