I need some votes! And what makes a house a home?

I put a poll on the side over there. All of a sudden we are trying to change the way we want to spell Anabel's name. Should it be Annabel or Anabel? My mom's middle name is AnnaLee, so it does seem like it should be Annabel. I think I was just trying to make it as easy as possible and did Anabel. And the harder questions for me :) is whether to take a purse or a backpack or both! See I am really quite simple in what can throw me!

We have had a lot happen in the last eight months. I am very glad that I have not been physically preparing as the birth mom on top of all the others things that have happened. Let's see, we put down one dog, adopted two, sold one house, bought another, and moved! It makes me tired just thinking about it.

Last night Grace and Dad put together the second bed and a table to set the TV on. They have gotten really good at this.

When my sister moved to Dallas and their initial short visit with me, they moved into a TINY duplex that had only 1 closet. Their home in Round Rock probably had over 3000 sq ft., but they made it work.

My parents have lived in the same house since I was a baby. They must have looked at a hundred houses they thought they might want to buy while we were growing up. But Mom loves that house and none of the others could replace "home'.

So they still live in the house we grew up in. The neighborhood has changed so much during the years. Slowly the older people on the block passed away and were replaced, but most houses are still identified by their original owners' names. The last house to change was the house next door. Here lived an older woman and her son.

I think about her running out of the house yelling at us to get off their grass. There were 4 of us and I feel certain she had to yell it often. In high school we got "papered" several times, with tons of toilet paper hanging from our trees. When the wind blew a tiny piece in to her yard, she ran out, grabbed it, and called us "fools, crazy people".

She passed away and then it was just him. He began to accumulate cats, sometimes 40 at a time. Dad hates cats especially since they used his flower beds as giant kitty litter boxes.

In the last few years, his health began to decline. He no longer used electricity. I can't remember if gas and water were still on. But during this decline he suddenly had no one to care for him.

After all these years of animosity towards us, my Dad, being the great Christian man that he is, stepped in and began to provide care. He made sure he took his medicine, had something to eat, took him to the hospital, visited him there. He finally in desperation called in help. Then visited him often in the nursing home, made sure the state appointed attorney took care of his last wishes.

But then the house next door was vacant and about to be put on the market. Now Dad is no dummy either and bought the house. He and my sister were going to re-do it.

For weeks I couldn't stand to even go in the house because of the horrible smells.

Dad and Jana worked tirelessly to provide a better home for she and the girls. The place was stacked from floor to ceiling with stuff. I was seeing first hand what I had only heard about working with older people. This man still had the newspaper from when JFK was shot. The ceilings were falling down and the floors were coming up and there were stacks and stacks of stuff in between. They hauled tons of trash out. Mom got in there scrubbing every surface. The people at church pitched in. Cabinets full of the nastiness that comes from neglect were torn down and new ones put up. The house began to hum with activity. And it was finally ready. Jana and the girls made it a showplace. Jana was always quite talented in decorating. It became a home.

She loved to entertain and had everyone for Father's Day at her house. The irony of us celebrating our Dad in the house where so much bitterness toward all of us had existed showed what love and hard work can do.

I guess that is a good analogy to adoption sometimes too.

When my sister passed away, we had to force ourselves to come back into the house that had been their home. Chip and the girls packed up their most beloved treasures and moved them back to the big house in Round Rock.

Then the house sat quiet.

It became an albatross and could not be avoided when you drove into my parent's driveway. They saw it from their bedroom, their porch, even the bathroom window.

My older sister was sure that I should move in, after all I was adding another family member. It would be perfect.

I tried to find someone else to buy it. I couldn't imagine living in the house that held so many memories.

I tried to find another house for us to buy. Something larger, maybe big enough for Mom and Dad too.

I finally came to realize that the house I was trying to find was right there, next door to Mom and Dad, my sister's home.

We moved in December after changing some of the floor plan to help erase the bad memories. We moved in with boxes of stuff that was left that wouldn't make the trip to their other home. We added our boxes of stuff to their boxes of stuff and at times it felt like it was reverting to the neighbor's life, hoarding with only tiny passageways through the rooms!

But progress has finally been made and the bedroom I had envisioned for the girls to share is coming together. Their new matching beds will replace the bed bought by an old friend. New ways to store toys, books, and clothes have been found. The countdown is on and we are working frantically to ensure that when we return our attention can be on our family and our home.

We are once again making sure this house is a home!