An old photo of Heidi’s house in Marine on St. Croix.

We celebrated Father’s Day yesterday at my oldest daughter’s house. 

Heidi lives just four miles from us in Marine on St. Croix, a quaint historic village nestled in the hills next to the St. Croix River.

Four years ago, when Heidi and Dominic were considering the Marine house,  we drove up from Mankato to check out this property they had fallen in love with. We, too, fell in love with the eight acres of wooded land and the amazing 1860 sprawling clapboard house.  The old house had been added onto over the years, but the charm was in the New England feel of the home and the amazing potential of it all. Heidi and Dominic put an offer on the property, and it was accepted. Then came the inspection.

There were the usual old house pitfalls—electrical, foundation, leaky toilets, windows that needed to be repaired, etc. It was a daunting amount of work and money, but they had to look past the report and look to their family’s future.  Heidi, Dom, Eve, and Athena, dog and cat, packed up their former life in South Minneapolis and chose to invest sweat, time, and money. Everything was new. New problems, New joys. New people. New schools. New hope.

It not only takes courage but also vision. How can I make this better on a dime? How can I turn this into a one-of-a-kind dream house or, better yet, a home? And that’s exactly what this property became for my daughter and her family—a home.

Sometimes you miss greatness with a wave of the hand and say, “Too much work, or “Too much money.” “Not doing it. I’m not investing in a hopeless dream.” You can’t without considering, really considering, the true treasure set before you. If you don’t have hope, you’ve got nothing.

Sometimes, we don’t want to invest in people with broken bones, leaky mouths, or faulty wiring.

The older I get, I see houses and people are about the same. Too much work … too big of a time commitment. Not every house is for you, and some people aren’t your jam either, and that is ok.

It’s like punching the time clock each morning when you wake up. Doing your routine and going to bed and repeating the process all over again in the morning. It’s called “rutitis.”

A dream is just a dream until you act on it. A dream is just a dream until you put the key in the ignition, turn the key, put it in gear, and step on the gas pedal.

Sometimes, I, myself, can’t find the keys. Sometimes, I get the key in the ignition but don’t turn the key. Sometimes I stay in idle and don’t press the gas pedal.

I lose the way forward. I guess you would say, I lose the map of life.

Houses have many lives, usually. I wouldn’t know. Since I have been married, I have never lived in a new house. I seem to like the “loser” houses with broken bones and rusty toilets. Ha.

I enjoy transformations. I enjoy change. I enjoy creating.

Tom will always say, “What’s the use of buying you a house that’s already done when you’ll just change it anyway?”

Whatever …

Our other daughter is cut from the same cloth as her sister and me. She, too, bought an old house (a brick colonial in Iowa) and scraped, wired, chipped, and pounded herself to greatness.

Why are you all so crazy? Why do you scrape, chip, stain, wallpaper, and paint so much?

There is more color in the world than what you see. I guess it takes different glasses to see the unknown.

Not to just rip up and change for no good reason, but to enhance.

Improve, elevate, and complement.

Hope is improvement. Hope is elevating. And hope is complementing your accessories.

God has given me two hands to help shape, mold, and create. God has given me two eyes to enjoy His beauty. God has given me two feet to walk with Him to fulfill my personal destiny.

So, put the pedal to the metal, Susan, and let’s ride the high places.

Not done yet,

Susan

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