Four years ago, my boyfriend was working as a construction worker, makinglots of money.
A few months ago, I decided that I couldn't take on any more commitments and do well at everything I am already signed up for.
And then we bought a house.
I'm feeling a little drained.
I'm not much of a squealer any more. I'm a planner.
I've been planning things like what kinds of pancake toppings to keep on hand and how I can keep things simple so I can have lots of people over often.
Because my dreams are coming true.
In one of my dreams, my home is a place where people come to find peace and rest. They come to get their hearts, spirits, and tummies filled up. The house is always full of the smells of something delicious cooking, and a new memory is always on the horizon.
Sometimes the food isn't fancy, because at my house, we feed everyone. Even if that means we are out of grocery money. But everyone leaves feeling loved. And full. In more ways than one.