Home Sweet Home

I’ve become more of a homebody the older I get. It doesn't matter how much fun I’m having on a vacation or a night out, I’m always ready to go home. My heart aches for the familiarity of my own space. If I’m away from my kids, there is truly nothing better than walking in the door to the sounds of the shrieks and the embrace of their arms.

Home. That sweet feeling when you walk through the door and drop your bags after a long trip away. Home. That deep sigh of relief you take when you sink into the couch at the end of a hard day. Home. That feeling of satisfaction after a party when the last guest has left and the final dish is clean. Home. The sound of your children laughing down the hall while pancakes and bacon cook on the stove, welcoming the weekend. Home. It’s everything we value, everything we hold dear, wrapped up under one roof.

When we think of our house, we may not experience those same cozy, comforting feelings. Our house is often a to-do list of projects, repairs, upgrades, and renovations. It’s expensive and it’s stressful. Our house is a lot of maintenance. Something’s always coming up; it’s never truly finished. Just last month my husband relocated a towel bar in our kids’ bathroom and it led to me repainting 2 bathrooms, removing a baseboard, and re-tiling the fireplace. (Don’t get me started.) We may not be able to tackle every task in our house, but we can make it feel like home. Our home is a sweet reflection of who we are. Our home is the smells, the sounds, the feels, and the sights of the pieces we surround ourselves with. It’s so much more than the lists of all the things we wish it was or wish it wasn’t. Our home is what we make it, and who we share it with.

Have you ever noticed how much a person’s home reflects their personality? Our homes are truly extensions of ourselves. When you look around someone’s home, you can quickly figure out who they are. I have friends that are very low-maintenance, keep a simple wardrobe, prefer a cheap meal over fine dining, and never take themselves too seriously. Their home is a perfect reflection of them. They give little attention (if any) to decor, but they have the biggest, comfiest couch and the coziest kitchen. They’ll offer you a beer and a homemade biscuit and then make you laugh until you have tears in your eyes. They value family over appearances, and it shows in all the best ways. Look around your home. What does it say about you?

The look and feel of my home have changed significantly over the years. As we grow and change, our homes should too. My childhood bedroom looked drastically different than my college dorm. (Thank goodness, because I don’t think I would’ve made many friends in college if I’d brought my sunflower bedspread and posters of Jonathan Taylor Thomas to move-in day at South Hall.) Just as the apartment I had as a single woman in my early 20’s looked a lot different than the home I share now with my husband and two young children. Merging styles with my new husband proved a bit more challenging than I’d expected, too. Turns out, not all men are fans of it feeling like perpetual autumn with jewel tones in every room. Who knew? He was sweet enough to let me use my label maker in every kitchen cabinet, though, and he was patient enough to put up with my obsessive cleaning before I’d agree to sit and watch a movie with him. Over time we found a healthy compromise. It took a few years, but eventually, I let go of the need for cloth napkins at every meal, vacuuming every day, and the desire to purchase every single thing for our home from Crate and Barrel or Pottery Barn (brand names were far too important to me back then). Basically, I learned to stop trying to impress.

Today, our furniture is a mixture of online finds, Ikea and Target, mostly. Nothing we own is expensive by any means. Everything is washable and wipeable (because kids). My decor has simplified over the years. I find I desire less clutter and would rather have a few pieces that I truly love, than a lot of things I like just enough. Most importantly, all four of us feel at home in every room. Every single space is filled with pieces and colors that genuinely reflect who we are as a family. Our family is fun and we laugh a lot, so our home is filled with lots of natural light and bright, vibrant colors. We’ve been so intentional in making each room feel comfortable, welcoming, and fun. This means keeping things that spark joy and fond memories and letting go of the extra, unnecessary things that don’t hold a purpose. This means keeping things as clean as I can but not becoming consumed by cleanliness. If I’m vacuuming under my kids’ feet and putting things away before they’re even done playing, I’m not creating a comfortable, safe space- I’m creating nervous wrecks. I love a clean, organized house, but I love watching my kids create huge forts on the kitchen floor with every blanket and pillow they can find, even more. I love watching my daughter snuggle up in her special reading corner we’ve created in her room and settle in with a good book. I love watching my son pull out all his kitchen utensils to host his own cooking show in our kitchen. I love seeing the playroom tables covered in Lego creations, more than I love seeing a clean, shiny surface. Our kids love our home. It’s a place where their creativity can run free and the things they love most have to space to spread out.

I used to love hosting people in our home, but I don’t do it nearly as often as I used to. I’ve shifted my focus to my family. Hospitality isn’t just something you offer guests. I learned that. Creating a haven for my family is something I prioritize. Our home is a true tell of what we value. Our home is filled with books, games, puzzles, and cozy spots to enjoy them. My children’s artwork is on display and my favorite photographs are framed. Our kitchen usually smells of last night’s dinner, my son’s latest recipe brought to life. In our backyard you’ll find bug catchers, drying swimsuits, and painting supplies. Our weekly meal plan is posted on the fridge. We value creativity, family time, dinners together, reading, and FUN, and our home shows it. Nothing fills my heart more than hearing my husband or kids say, “I just love our home.” Not only is that what we want to feel as we reside here each day, but it’s what we want friends and family to feel when they step into our space.

Hospitality may be something you associate with being a “good hostess,” and therefore it makes you cringe because that’s just not your thing. I used to think having the gift of hospitality meant I had to keep up with the Martha Stewarts of this world- perfectly folding the cloth napkins and lighting my homemade beeswax taper candles before a dinner party. (I’m kidding. I’ve never made homemade candles in my life.) I put so much pressure on myself. I used to exhaust myself preparing my home and making food for guests, that by the time anyone arrived, I was too spent to even engage in real conversation. I cared more about impressing my guests than loving them well. After all the parties and dinners I hosted though, what my guests remembered most, was the laughter, the conversation, the warmth. They didn’t remember the decorations, the cleanliness of my kitchen, or if my brownies were made from a box mix. They remembered how they felt in my home.

I still love to host on occasion. I love preparing food for friends and welcoming them into all the nooks and crannies of our nest, not because I want to impress them anymore, but because I want to share a piece of myself with them. I want them to leave my family room feeling like they know me and my family better like they got an authentic glimpse into our life. Above all, I want them to feel like my home, is their home too, a place they feel safe to be who they are, to relax and snuggle in. That’s all you need to offer hospitality to others, authenticity.

When we moved from our first house in California, it was emotional. Not because we’d miss the hardwood floors or the big backyard. It was hard because of all the memories that the house held. Countless dinner parties, game nights, baby showers, and Superbowl parties. We’d built treasured friendships with our neighbors. We’d come home to that house and cry tears after six different failed adoptions. We brought home our daughter to that house and celebrated her first two birthdays there. The memories, the laughter, the relationships. That’s what made it our home. Six years later, the details of the house itself are getting fuzzier. But the moments that lived inside those walls, will never fade. When we moved into our new house in Arizona, our new church family rallied around us, unpacking boxes, assembling furniture, and hanging curtains. Our new place filled with the sounds of laughter of our new friends. Before they left, they encircled our kitchen and prayed for us. They prayed our four walls would be a place of safety, comfort, and minister to every soul who entered. As they left they cheered, “Welcome home Imbodens!” We were home sweet home.