All Hallows’ Eve, six years ago, was one for the books. I remember it vividly. 

My husband and I put in a few hours of work that morning. We then trekked to Rockville to sign closing paperwork, and received our keys. After we picked up James & Lucy from my parents’ house, we changed the two into their costumes — a construction worker & a brown bear. After months of great anticipation, we then drove over to our completed home, took photos of our tiny trick or treaters sitting on our freshly laid, green lawn, absent of weeds… then, finally, we broke bread for the first time around the kitchen island in the company of my Mom and Fr. Thompson, who had just finished a traditional home blessing in Latin. We ate Pizza Hut.

I always appreciate a good before and after side-by-side.

Goodness, how different life was six years ago! How much has changed since…

After being in the building industry for however long it has been now, looking back at the past and present is a cause for celebration, a moment of great pride, of satisfaction. These retrospective moments also bring about inward pauses of gratitude. Just like the build out of our home, one day it was literally a pile of dirt; months later, a home for a growing family. And yet even when it was a pile of dirt, we celebrated the potential, what was to come, and were grateful for the process, the lessons learned along the way—the in-betweens as I like to refer to them.

We then celebrated once more upon receiving the keys to our home.

In the same vein, witnessing the change of seasons in our family is also a cause for both celebration and gratitude.

From the physical growth of our oldest kids (look at that photo from 2017!) to the growth of our family size, from a year of homeschooling and working remote during the pandemic, to the older kids going to school, and me still working remote while trying to find a rhythm that works with the little boys — these passing years have been filled with God’s providence and grace to journey through these seasonal transitions faithfully all while overcoming challenges, navigating loss, and actively choosing God to be the center for our family every time. I don’t know how else we would’ve gotten through them otherwise.

This particular season of parenthood has been pretty rough. While we made it past the two under two phase, there is still plenty of action to come with our two little boys, Jack and Tomie. If one were to see into our home as if it were a glass box, perhaps they might think “well that looks like chaos!”. However, I beg to differ.

On ordinary days, yes, it can get loud. Kids chasing another. Fights and arguments.

Our week can sometimes feel too full and non-stop.

Our floors gets messy with food crumbs and toys alike spread across the floor repeatedly.

We fall behind in laundry quite often.

But I don’t believe it is chaos. In my opinion, it is the opposite. It’s simply the sight and sound of family life being lived. It’s a home filled with flawed human beings who strive to love and serve God and one another. And when one falls short, beg for forgiveness, and hope to choose better part next time an opportunity arises.

Because when life is heavy and the chaos in the world only worsens, being home with my family—even amid wrestling through our own hardships—is a haven, a safe place. Chaotic at times, sure, maybe. But chaos? Far from it. Home is a haven from the chaos outside, and this is why my gratitude runs so deep.

On the Eve of All Saints I am keeping close in prayer families everywhere throughout the world. If the family is truly a microcosm of the larger society, may we draw inspiration from the lives of the holy men and women, known and unknown, who sought the Lord’s will every day in their lives. I deeply believe that the world can be transformed by way we love our family. To echo the words of the late Pope St. John Paul II, “family, become what you are!”

Happy six years to calling this place our home.

Now, who’s here for more Before and Afters?

I believe a godly home is a foretaste of heaven. Our homes, imperfect as they are, must be a haven from the chaos outside. They should be a reflection of our eternal home, where troubled souls find peace, weary hearts find rest, hungry bodies find refreshment, lonely pilgrims find communions, and wounded spirits find compassion.

Jani Ortlund