Coming Home

... and I'm back. Lets get this blog out of the dusty storage bins and bring it back to life. 

What better way to come back than by writing about coming home - and paying tribute to people who matter most - my parents. 

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We moved into our old/ new home recently. Old, because we lived here some years back before moving somewhere else outside the city. New because we've come back after so many years and as a gift my parents gave the place a new look, adjusted the layout of the old structure and gave it new dimensions. My husband and I are basking in the new paint, and the significantly greater space. More importantly, we have come home to a place we call our own. 

It is not an impressive structure. No architect was involved in the designing. No fancy fixtures. No big construction. It is not something that could be featured in magazines. It is a mix of concrete and galvanized iron, bits and pieces of materials brought together, almost like a mosaic of the old and new.  The frontage is the remnant of what used to be a sari-sari store - with galvanized sheets covering the grills, and a foldable door converted into a wall. 

I walk around, opening the doors, going up and down the small, wooden spiral staircase that didn't use to be there. I couldn't help but well up with emotion feeling the love that my parents have for me in every corner and crevice of this house. Here I am, already an adult, supposedly capable of earning my way to have my own properties and yet, here are my parents - bona fide senior citizens - giving what they could to show their affection. This house was literally built with their own hands. My father is a carpenter and along with my ever entrepreneurial mother, they held the hammer that placed a nail in place, carried a shelf to put into position, and held the broom that swept the dirt to get the place ready and clean. To expand the floor area, they gave up their own private space. They did not tell us about the renovations nor asked for money that was necessary to see it through. It was meant as a surprise. Surely they have used a portion of whatever savings they had, and my brothers have certainly chipped in one way or another. My youngest brother willingly gave the tiles which could have been used for his own house. Thank you my dear brothers - older sister will try to make it up someday, somehow.

Just the thought of how much a labor of love this gift is makes me cry with gratitude. Thank you Daddy and Mama - for this precious gift - an expression of your great love for us. We could not ask for more, and pray to God that He would allow us the opportunity to bless you back. We love and honor you! 

 “Honor your father and mother. Then you will live a long, full life in the land the Lord your God is giving you.” - Exodus 20:12  (NLT)