The front of my house is currently being redone, and all day today there were sounds of hammering, banging against the walls, and other loud noises. If you’ve seen the exterior of my house before you can tell that it’s been years since it’s been fixed. (The inside is fine, but the outside hasn’t changed since the 70’s I’m sure.) I’ve lived in this house for 18 years, so, my whole life. My Dad has lived here most of his life, my Grandma lived here, my Great-Grandma lived here too.
Basically, it’s belonged to the family for a while and hasn't been updated for years. Until today.
Growing up we had some financial issues, but I didn’t think much of it. I remember seeing my parents stress over bills and while I was aware of our situation, it honestly never bothered me. Obviously, I never liked seeing my parents stressed, but it made it easy for me to accept the fact that we'd live a little different than everyone else. That’s all a thanks to my parents, and our humble little house.
To my parents, our house was the ugliest house on the block and they seemed to be ashamed of it. On the contrary, I’ve always been proud to live in a house like this one. It allowed me to see the strength my parents had, it allowed me to appreciate their faithfulness and bravery to make ends meet. Living in a house like my own prepared me for personal challenges of being different. It helped me learn to live freely even when you feel like others are watching, and taught me to appreciate what I have.
Now that the changes are being made, I can’t help but be excited for my parents. It’s definitely a new chapter for my family - we’re both thrilled and nervous - but growing up in the “ugliest” house on the block taught me lessons you can’t learn from reading a book or listening to a lecture. It taught me the kind of lessons you have to experience to understand, so I’m thankful.