My husband and I met at work. Our first real conversation was about his upcoming work trip to Thailand; I’ve travelled there before so we started chatting about places to see and eat at. We kept in touch the whole time he was away, and made plans to try out local restaurants when he returned home. Not long after he came back, we went on a date, bonded over our shared love for travel and for making a home wherever life found us. Just over a year after our first date, we had our first dance as husband and wife in a converted airplane hangar, surrounded by beautiful vintage planes and our family and friends. 

Travel has been a priority for us, and our love for adventure grew even more once we started having children, even if that meant learning how to navigate foreign subway systems with strollers and jet-lagged toddlers. We were intentional about piquing their curiosities about different cultures and ways of life. We were always planning trips, always looking forward to our next great adventure.

We were just returning from a trip when the pandemic began. Suddenly, we were homebound with no travel plans in sight. At home, we came up with new games, watched online church services and celebrated Zoom birthday parties. But when the novelty of it all started to fade, and pandemic fatigue started to creep in, we wondered if we needed to lean into the change of pace that has been forced on us instead of just wishing it all away.

Like many other families, the pandemic has urged us to focus on our home more than ever before. Our day dreams shifted from foreign adventures into dream spaces. What kind of a home would serve our family’s needs? Which city should we live in? What does it mean to set down roots?

We fell in love with a house at the end of last summer. With travel plans indefinitely on hold, we kept ourselves busy with moving and reorganizing, renos and home improvements. Slowly, but surely, our house started to feel more like home. 

And while there is a slight tinge of sadness as we stowed our suitcases away, I admit that it has been an equally thrilling adventure to discover and define what home means to our family. As we unpacked our lives and watched a new chapter unfold, I became acutely aware of how much of a role this new home will play in our family’s life. Here in this place, our family will write stories and make memories. My three-year-old son proudly showed off our new backyard to his uncle saying, “this is where I will have many adventures!” 

This pandemic year has surely been different, abnormal in so many ways. But I would have to admit that despite the many challenges, there were many surprising truths that I never would have found except with our time at home.

In the last few months, the  slower, quieter pace has made God’s fingerprints all the more visible, gently reminding us that He truly takes interest even in the simplest minutiae of our daily lives.

I’m learning that God’s providence is personal.

 It took us years to find our home because nothing ever felt right. But as providence would have it, while we were out of town last summer, we ended up putting an offer on a house that we have not yet seen in person. We were in for a big surprise when our realtor phoned us to let us know that our offer was accepted and that we needed to arrange an inspection as soon as we got back. My husband and I were both filled with peace as we proceeded with the purchase, and there was an unmistakable calm that overcame us when we visited the house in person for the first time. Settling into our home and enjoying the little details of its character reminds us why it never worked out with the dozens of other houses we loved in the past few years. Our new home is quirky and certainly not everyone’s cup of tea. But for this very reason, it feels so personal. It’s as if God is saying, “I know you; I know what you like. This one is yours.” 

God will stop at nothing to lavish His love on us. And in a small way, the Church has been able to bear witness to Him by leveraging technology to continue to worship. When churches all over the world were forced to close their doors, millions of homes practiced being the domestic church in a more tangible way: dining tables became altars, couches into pews. Of course, it doesn’t replace our parishes and tabernacles, but in a very real way, we have been able to make an offering back to Jesus by welcoming Him into our homes in a personal way. 

Experiencing Mass at home was a great reminder for me that my relationship with God is not limited to a holy hour on Sunday mornings; rather, it is a living relationship that permeates every aspect of my everyday life.

I’m learning what real rest feels like.  

With a worldwide mandate to ‘stay home’, much of our society came to a screeching halt. We’ve lost our ability to cherish rest, so many of us threw ourselves into projects and renovations to stay distracted and keep busy. None of these things are bad in themselves, but I wonder what would change if we prioritized rest with the same dedication we had to getting things done. I wonder what would change if we glorified rest as a necessary gift, rather than vilifying it as lazy and unmotivated. In the Good Things Run Wild podcast, mom-of-two Kristen Morris said this about rest: “If we aren’t convinced and constantly assured that God’s nature is to provide rest, peace, and comfort for us, then we have a much bigger problem than being overworked, or hyper-stressed, or exhausted.” 

We put so much pressure on ourselves to constantly be on the move, checking off impossible to-do lists, constantly distracted from being truly present in the moment. It is exhausting, and I do not believe our souls were created to be going at the dizzying speed we seem to be going on these days; it feels nearly impossible to simply ‘be’. 

Rest was built into God’s design; He didn’t need rest, He chose it. It’s as if He knew that it would be something we would struggle with, or feel guilty about.

On the other hand, it doesn’t mean putting rest above everything else. We can also get lost in an idea of a “slow-living, restful home” based on curated images we see in popular culture.While there is something to this kind of aesthetic that can help us slow down, we need to remember that a restful home is more about interior soul-work than it is about exterior display. That means it is certainly possible to have a restful home in the midst of a messy one, complete with the boisterous laughter and pitter-patter of tiny (often muddy!) feet. 

“Our soul is restless until we rest in Thee”, St. Augustine reminds us. Resting in God grants us the solace we need amidst the chaos of our real everyday lives. And sure, structure and rhythm are both very important and necessary in keeping a home. But the rigidity of our house rules need to first and foremost serve immaterial needs of the individuals that inhabit our homes. Plans and schedules need to be held somewhat loosely, knowing that the world will not stop spinning if some things just don’t get done. We need to let go of control, and hold these words near to our heart: “Return, O my soul, to your rest; for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.” (Psalm 116:7)

I’m learning that restful homes need order (and not the Marie Kondo kind).

No, not joy-sparking, colour-coordinated shelves or spotless Pinterest-worthy kitchens. Our homes need to be subject to an order that honours God and His commands. We are to love God and love others first before we seek to achieve anything else. 

Whenever I catch myself getting angry at my husband or children, frustrated that I “just can’t get anything done!”, I realize that I’ve shifted my focus on my task list over the emotional wellbeing of my family. Similarly, whenever I feel guilty about working on personal hobbies, thinking that my free time is better spent scrubbing floors or folding laundry, I remind myself that I am tying my identity to my ability to be productive. 

Time and time again, mothers are told: “you can’t fill from an empty cup.” And it’s true—mothers are often running on empty, trying their very best to meet everyone's needs, often at the expense of neglecting their own. In our earnest desire to create rest and bring order to our homes, us mothers often end up being depleted and run bone-dry. And while this is something that surely needs to be addressed, the image of an empty cup is sometimes just the mind-picture that I need to remind myself to constantly be filled by God’s Spirit, leaning on His wisdom and strength instead of my own. 

When we prioritize that which truly meets our needs, coming to God for strength and fortitude to meet the demands of a busy household, then we can face (or not face!) our mountain of to-do lists knowing that we have attended to the better portions first. 

I need to always ask myself:

  • Is my constant desire for cleanliness inadvertently causing feelings of shame on my young, impressionable children? 

  • Do I have unrealistic expectations of my family to keep our space as organized as my dreams dictate? 

  • Are our plans for home renovations at the expense of having to work so many extra hours to afford our dream space? 

  • Have I neglected the needs of my husband, as I dive deeply into my role as mother? 

  • How have I prioritized my marriage today? 

We live in a culture where busyness and burnout are normalized, and I think at the core of it all, this glorification of ‘busy’ stems from a disordered view of seeking achievement instead of purpose.  In the business of raising souls, this disorder can have real serious consequences.

Matthew 6:33 tells us, “But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well.” As a parent and a home-maker, I’d be remiss if I lost sight of my order of priorities, seeking other things while neglecting the spiritual needs of those entrusted to my care. 

I find that when my desires are rightly-ordered, I experience more joy in the little things that surround me.

Somehow being lighthearted makes my tasks more bearable and our messes less bothersome. I notice the deep belly-laughs my children make when they are lost in their own imaginative worlds, the sound of birds from my kitchen window, and the delight my husband has over his own hobbies. My vocation urges me to remember the mission behind the ministry of my home. 

But what does this all mean on a practical level? Is a restful, ordered home actually realistic in a busy household? 

Absolutely.

Practically speaking, to keep our house clean the best I can, I set a cleaning schedule that tackles a small area each day. I try to do a deeper clean before the weekend, so that our weekends can be freed up for more family time. Do I follow my meal plans and cleaning schedules religiously? Almost never—and I’m okay with that! My husband and I set limits for how long we can spend tidying up in the evenings after the kids are in bed so that we can have more time to connect with each other. From a young age, we’ve taught our kids where their toys belong and why it's important for their stuff to be tidied up after playing. Do they always clean up after themselves? Of course not! But we're a work in progress. There's always tons of room for grace. Grace for children to learn that order brings peace of mind to their parents, and grace for us parents to learn that our children need room to grow and play and be curious. It's not perfect; our kids continue to be messy little rascals and we often lose our temper over having to yell “clean up!” too many times. But in our home, there are infinite chances to try and learn to treat each other better. 

I often wind down after a long day with my kids in their bed, reading endless stories and chatting about our day. We talk about our “highs and lows”—moments of the day that made us happy or sad, a practice that some of our friends do around the dinner table with their young kids. This gives all of us a chance to connect and settle into each other’s arms. 

The Prophet Isaiah sums up my dream home beautifully: “My people will abide in a peaceful habitation,  in secure dwellings, and in quiet resting places.” (Isaiah 32:18)

Isn't that what home truly is about? 

To me, home is more about the intangible feelings of being known, loved, accepted and delighted in. 

It’s about the nostalgia of our favourite spot for a morning coffee, or the little corner of the playroom where LEGO creations are displayed. Home is the sacred space that is witness to the difficult, yet irreplaceable work of forming souls. My prayer is that wherever in the world life takes us, that our home will always be the safest place where my children can turn to. I pray that they will forever cherish the memories we are making here. I know I will treasure them in my heart—crumbs, muddy footprints, and all.