Archive for the Category »Home sweet home «

Jun
01

Not too long ago, an old friend of the Martens’ came for a visit. He had joined us for Thanksgiving last year as well as another visit since. He has been a part of the Martens’ extended adopted family for many years. As he put it, he has been to all three son’s weddings and was going to Easter dinner’s and Sunday Martens’ lunches for years before that. He is an important part of the Martens’ family experience. So when he said to me as he walked in my crowded yet happy kitchen, “This is the new 415 for me,” I felt my heart fill with joy and tears brimmed in my eyes.

You must understand a few things:
415 stands for my in-laws home of twenty plus years and it stands right across the street from my home. My address is 418.
The Martens’ are an inclusive bunch, mostly as a result of Mother LoAnn’s gathering expertise and wide wing span. Often, “orphans” [those with no parents or really bad family systems] would be warmly invited in for holidays, Monday night family dinners and even the grand ol’ Berkness annual family reunion (LoAnn’s side of the family).
The family experience one had when coming into 415 was rich and genuine and lingering. The home experience one had as they walked up the path lit with lanterns and into the big front door was warm and overwhelming welcome. The house itself was a home base even though it was a trek up to Waukegan for many Evanstonians and Chicagoans. But people would come by the masses. It became such a notorious experience, to have dinner with the Martens’, that one time LoAnn intentionally planned a whip cream fight for the end of the meal to impress some of Joel’s friends.
415 was a home where an amazing family lived who welcomed in many who were in need of a home and a family.

So to hear my home be called the new 415 was a powerful declaration of God’s ability to redeem something that went really wrong and ended in a heap of ashes. What a legacy to inherit the responsibility of creating “a home where one’s story begins” and the orphans, the lonely and lost can come in and find a place. A place where people are highly valued, made to feel important and loved, and given space to share their story and be heard. I have come to know that our home is a place of peace, rest and respite. Many have spent time in our home, in our little guest rooms and have felt refreshed, cared for, loved on and well fed. And I love that!

How fun of God to use my hospitality gifts and my power-packed dynamite combination found in my marriage to Ivan in this way.
I gladly open my door, and throw up my arms in a jovial greeting and make room for more!

418 is the new 415.
I receive that inheritance and call it good.

Oct
12

I learned from someone/somewhere that if you have a lemon rind to dispose of you can chop it up into fine slices and put it through your garbage disposal to clean the blades and to freshen the air. I have to say that it really did smell fresh and pleasant, especially with hot water pouring through the drain as I ground the rind up. Have a try.

Aug
06

I don’t know why I don’t do this more often. This afternoon I received some lovely curtains I have been drooling over for sometime: this rusty orange with flecks of warm golden yellow in it. I paired them with some elegant rich cream linen sheers and Oh, my…it looks lovely. I hung them this afternoon admiring the afternoon sun catching different hues and warming the room. I created a new layout to my first floor (again). Essentially I have created a toy haven (aka dump all the toys on this side of the room) and the other side is a parlor of sorts that is to remain toy free at all costs. We have this unusually long and narrow living room where the front door that comes off the enclosed front porch opens smack dab with the fireplace on the other side. So essentially, you can create two different spaces in this long room. I have never done much with this western window because it faces an ugly house and just didn’t seem very bright and cheery. But I would beg to differ after some of my Dana-touches that I have instilled into this space. When all is complete I will have to snap a shot for your enjoyment.

I recently discovered a new musician that I enjoy and groove with in a kindred spirit sort of way: Chris Pureka. Her voice streams through the house this evening like little rivulets and streams that form after a quick, hard rain in the height of summer in the Midwest.

Some news that prefaces this next part: Ivan recently acquired a new job which has allowed me to leave my week day job at the cancer clinic I have worked at for seven years. There will be a post about this goodbye for it was super bittersweet in my little heart. Now that I am not working during the week (and just doing a weekend job which has a lot of flexibility) I can enjoy “keeping house” like the old days. I know I sound corny and quite old fashioned, but I really do love caring for my home, creating niches, sorting laundry, watering the flowers, having an afternoon to make a delicious meal at a slow and leisurely pace. It has returned to me like old and worn leather reigns in my hands and I love the feel of them. I am finding that I am very good at filling empty time in my schedule but am doing my best to guard time and space to just be, to enjoy my children, and to keep house.

So this evening was one of those lovely nights where I seemed to have a plethora of time on my hands to hang curtains, play with my children, water my vegetable garden and all those dry baskets I have neglected, put together a delicious salad and use stuff in the fridge to put together a nutritious and tasty dinner, and then linger with Aunt Wanda and LoAnn at the kitchen nook. After a bit, I took Audrey Anne upstairs and did all our bedtime “processes” and read her a story, with a-kiss-and-a -hug included.

I came downstairs and started sprucing. My family is coming into town for a few days for the musical festival in Chicago: Lollapalooza. Made up the beds with fresh cotton sheets spritzed with rose linen spray, picked up all the toys strewn like a mini tornado debris, straightened up the back mud porch that is essentially our entry way to the house (we are a backdoor sort of people) and then I started lighting candles.

Why do I not light candles more often? They lend such a whimsical and fairy like air to the ol’ house. LoAnn had some old lantern encasing’s for tealights that I put on the upstairs balcony that has cascading impatiens and chartruse vines with a little water fountain. I lit the candles on the radiator in front of the bay window with all the orchids in their glory. I lit a candle on the back stoop to light the way. I lit some fat dusty green taper candles in staggered heights on the piano.

I am in heaven.
And I am writing to you.

May
04

I remember when we bought this big old house that I used to wonder what it would sound like to have children living and dwelling up above in the spare rooms. What would it sound like to hear their little footsteps running down the stairs? Would I grow tired of them chasing after one another through the figure-eight that intertwines through the many rooms and corridors of my first floor? How would it feel to hear indiscreet and muffled noises of children playing and having conversations with their dolls at the tea table in the play room?

Those sounds have infiltrated and weaved their way through the fabric of this home.
And I must say, I feel all aflutter with this sensation of not only joy, but deep satisfaction.

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