Our children named our home many years ago. They referred to it as a pile of sticks when asked about where they lived. The name stuck. How can one argue with a child’s perception of his or her home place? The children continue to reference it as a “Pile of Sticks” in their cell phone contacts.
No, we do not live in a pile of sticks; we live in a log home. A pieced together home with multiple remodelings to meet the needs at the time. However, it is home. A home where one will find much laughter, crying and instilled traditions that never grow old. It’s a home where anyone is welcomed to eat and stay the night. It’s a lived-in home where most days you will find the dishes still drying on a towel and “Stitch”, the dog, perched on the back of the couch. Yes, many have learned not to rub against the walls for a three-inch splinter will gladly join in the play. But the walls are filled with character of mementoes, pictures and stories.
Pile of Sticks is our home, and I am delighted to share what the days hold ahead in our family’s journey.