Twenty-five years ago today, Amy and I closed on our first house. We went to get fajitas after to celebrate, but even within the span of the lunch hour the dread of being responsible for a physical structure began to build in us.
I've become more handy since then, but the place (and our stewardship of it) remains a work in progress. But of more personal importance than maintaining the building is making it into a home, which it has been for the two of us and now three kids.
A quarter of a century is a long time but also a blink of an eye. In this space we have experienced sleepless nights, family celebrations, and countless hardships. I am thankful to have a safe haven for myself and my crew.
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