Remember when we planted the sycamore? It was just a stick. Our family was just as small, but now you are all strong and independent. It is a little sad leaving the house behind, but it served its purpose -- it is where we loved each other and learned to be who we are. That part will always be with us. We have left a few penciled-in height marks on the wall by the back door, a note taped to the underside of the linen closet shelves denoting Brian's apartment, hooks for the hammock, the front steps chipped from skateboards, BB holes and boxes of stored mementos. When we think of each other we will remember ourselves there making waffles on Sunday, sleepily reading scriptures at breakfast, wrestling and tickling, scouts and sleepovers, proms and homecomings, fruit basket turnover, bunnies, dogs, Squeaky, and what was the name of that fish?I can see each one of you leaving for grade school with a backpack and new shoes and then years later, somehow there you were, coming in wearing a dirty football jersey or basketball shorts, tall and confidant and full of enthusiasm.
Dad and I were talking about it one day, and I told him that the reason it is so hard to leave is that the house has become a sacred place for us. Maybe a house doesn't feel very sacred as we go along with the day to day. Our lives are too busy, and the work we do in our families is so close to us it's hard to see. But in retrospect my soul can feel that something extraordinary took place there.
Now a new family will live there. It will be a special place for them. They will swing on the tree swing, slide down the stairs on their bums, sleep out on the lawn, grumble as they pull weeds, say family prayers and sing in family home evening.
A house should be more than an empty shell. It should be more than a memorial or a museum. It should continue to be a place full of laughter and tickles and waffles on Sunday. It will be.
In the future you may drive slowly by and say to your kids, "That was where I grew up." They will only see a house, but you will see a family's memories.
Clarkston House
1981-2010
1981-2010
6 comments:
Sniff. I'm going to miss that house too. Even though I didn't grow up in that house, I did a lot of growing up in it. I had my first discussion with the missionaries in the basement. I brought three brand-new babies home to it. And I learned how to be a mother and a wife and a good member of the church by the examples I found in that house. It has always been a warm place for us to stay, often in times when we really needed it. And for those things I am grateful to the house, but mostly to you and Steve. Thank you for everything.
Thanks, Rendy. We were always glad to have you there. We love you, too.
sniff is right! Mom, that was a very beautiful post. I only can hope our home will be as wonderful for our children as the home I grew up in.
Pam, that's beautiful! We found Brian's note in the closet (why my kids were laying inside that closet already, I'm not sure) and we were going to send it to you. I remember babysitting your kids there and thinking that it was the perfect example of what a Christ-centered home should be. I only hope that we can honor that legacy and create some special memories of our own. Thank you so much for letting us stay there--we will always be grateful!
I can't cry because then my husband will be really concerned and ask me what's wrong and wonder why I'm so emotional lately. I love Tuckers. So much. This was touching to me, imagining little Tuckers who have grown to be big, beautiful, wonderful happy Tuckers. I feel sad that I never made it to Clarkston, but the Tucker home is wherever two or more happy Tuckers are gathered and that still exists in many places.
Mom, thanks for your comments. I'm happy to reflect on what good memories I have there. Thanks for reminding me to take a moment.
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