The Healing Sense of Home

Bella roaming the earth of the Stangler Farm, with bare feet, just like me!

I wake up to the soft sound of little feet roaming the floors above, the sound makes me smile.  It is still so dark in the far room of my parent's basement.  I love sleeping here, with no windows and with it being somewhat tucked away, it is by far the most peaceful and quiet room to take refuge in after a busy day.  I will myself out of the comfy bed, Grandma had taken Bella awhile back when she decided she was ready to wake up and face the world.  With two Gremlins keeping me up at night, it tends to be much earlier than I am ready to get up.  I take a sigh of relief, Landon is still sleeping; he's not feeling good.  It is such a gift that their Grandmother takes them in the morning to allow us to sleep a few more minutes or a couple more hours and rejuvenate.  Grandma doesn't know how much all she does means to us, both Grandmas.  Coming home is this mother's vacation, as I believe it is for my siblings too. 

Grandma Sue and Natalia Sue

I let my feet hit the old cement floor, one set of toes, and then the other.  I close my eyes and remember mornings of past when I used to do this very same thing.  Waking up for school in the morning or during the summer months, when the world outside waited patiently for me to begin exploring, as I did often in my much younger years.  The feel of the cool, cement floor feels like home to me.  I love this place, it is my refuge.  I pull on my Dad's big fuzzy green robe that they've let me borrow for the two weeks I am home, sweep my angelic son into my arms and head upstairs.

Mitch and Mindy Drotts and I 
We grew up practically like siblings only being 2+ years apart in age.

The creak of the stairs follow my steps, and I can hear my parents talking.  The smell of the sausage and bacon hits me before the sound of the sizzling in the pan to my ears.  Some of my family is over for breakfast this morning, up early for the hunt or for visiting, depending on the day.  Grandma is of course catering to others, as she makes sure each child has a plate of food and a filled tummy before she indulges in anything.  My dad is flipping the pancakes and the family eagerly awaits to homemade breakfast while sitting at the table sipping fresh, hot coffee.  These are my mornings, just as I have been imagining them for the past few weeks, absolutely chaotically perfect.

Grandma Sue, Natalia and Grandpa Stangler

The house is a flurry of conversation and roaming children, everyone is busy.  Mothers are frantic, trying to rain their children in, and fathers sit unknowingly around the house, talking "man talk", completely unaware of the chaos.  People, not of our family, enter the scene and are taken aback.  How do we stand the massive amounts of body in such a small place and the noise, mixed with the umpteen grandchildren running buck wild throught the house?  It is a part of a life that we have grown up with and come to know and accept, as this is our family, where we're from and where we love to be.

I am the youngest of 10 children in the Stangler family.  Three brothers and six sisters, the men are often outnumbered, until lately.  We've had a spurt of male grandchildren born into the family, only after a large run of girls.  21 grandchildren, 11 boys, 10 girls; it's a pretty even mix.  When the great grandchildren are born, making me a very happy Great Auntie, we'll probably have to move into a bigger building for Christmas, not out of want but out of necessity.  We are an ever growing family and this big family is quite the blessing.  Where some people feel quite alone throughout their life, with very few people to support them through their trials and tribulations, I have two parents, 8 living siblings, two children of my own, a loving husband (and his famiy too), and 19 nephews and nieces that have no choice but to love me for who I am and accept me.  Some of these individuals are the greatest and closest friends that I have, becoming more than just family to me, but my confidants.

Siblings Pam, Mary, my Dad, me, Lisa, my Mom, Tess and Barbie

My sister Lisa and I at my confirmation.
She was my sponsor.

When I decided to pursue writing, even though I am still unsure as to which avenue I'll take, they gave me insurmountable amounts of praise and affirmation.  In the words of my sister Lisa, after confiding my fears of writing, she says to me, "where you lack the confidence in yourself, my confidence in you fills the void."  She is truly God-inspired, always full of wisdom and always saying the right things.  What more could ask for in a friend, sister and confidant, but for her to say that in all things that you do, I have full and complete confidence in you.  It's no wonder I love her and my family so much. 

Each day I wake up in this house where I grew up, I feel that the hole within me growing smaller, the void created from the darkness of the world around me is filled.  I am inspired just by being here, to become more of who I am truly meant to be.  I feel a sense of healing that derives only from what a close family and God could provide.  I get to revisit the old trails behind our house, roam through the golden fields that are readying for winter, drive the same paths and go the same churches that I grew up in.  The Saint Joseph's church that I was baptised in, is the same church where I received my first communion and spent the majority of my life learning about my faith.  It is still exactly the same as it was 25 year ago.  It looks the same, the members that still go there are the ones that where there when I was little, it even smells the same.  And even though the massive amounts of incense they insist on burning has always made me physically sick, I still look forward to it and expect it.  It is all part of the process, and it's what makes this place what it is.  When my life is chaotic and completely inconsistent, I at least know that I can come back to these places and feel at peace, as I know they will never change.  In a very unstable world, they provide stability, even if it's in the smallest of ways.

Sarah and David at Grandmas during a hot day.  Grandma filled up this tub
and let the kids dunk in to cool down.  Doesn't get much sweeter than this!

So as I sit in the bathtub, the same porcelain, white tub I was bathed in after I was born, and sip the coffee that my Dad always makes, and sleep in the same room I grew up in, and write this very message, the smell of the outdoor wood stove that has always aromatized this homestead with that beautiful smell of a campfire hits me, and I thank God for bringing me back here.  I thank Him for my family, this place I call home and for the memories He helped to create here.  But mostly I thank Him for the opportunity for my children to be brought home, so that they too may feel that same healing of being here, where the scenes never change and things always feel at peace.