A Million Different Ways


We found an old typewriter in my husband’s granddad’s shed as we were cleaning it out one afternoon. Apparently it had belonged to “Grandpa”, as we called him, back in his earlier days when he worked for the postal service.  The small but heavy piece of equipment didn’t work, but something about it struck me as beautiful and we kept it displayed in our living room in Austin and now in Colorado.

When my mom was in hospice care in my home we had conversations about how she wasn’t ready for “it” to be over. “It” being life here on earth, as if she was potentially leaving somethings left undone. I didn’t put it all together until after she passed, past the funeral, past the burial, past the grieving and all of the hard things that follow. It was the book, The Five Regrets of the Dying, that helped put some things together to give me some insight. The author had walked alongside many, many people in their end of life experiences and, according to her, the number one regret people have as they are facing such a time is this “I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.”

I rummaged through remembered conversations with my mom over the years. She was a beautiful soul saved and changed by grace, a loyal friend and mom, a hard worker, very forgiving, a prayer warrior. She loved to laugh and have coffee and always applied lipstick before entering most public places. And I wish she was here so I could ask her her greatest dream. We never had conversations like that and parts of me are not quite sure she let herself really dream. She was practical, reliable, and got stuff done, but still, were there things she had wanted to try or pursue and didn’t? Don’t get me wrong, she followed after Jesus boldly with a pure and holy passion. But with that, I know there were potentially untapped dreams within her. Big or small. It all has got me wondering if there are untapped dreams within me? Within all of us? Why do we have such a tendency, at times, to put things off?


As I have walked past the vintage typewriter in my living room over and over and over, a word has sparked in my mind that I have tried to brush off. “Write.” Just that word. “Write". And then I, in turn, have countered that word with thoughts of, “but I’m not a writer”, “but who would read it”, and “what if its awful.” Its pretty odd to have a verbal exchange with a mechanical apparatus incapable of speaking, but it does make you pay attention.

What I do know about myself, is writing is a way that I process, and the little I have done of it has always taught me something. Its weird to say that your own words can teach you, but I’m not sure how to word it any other way. And so, in the spirit of hoping to live a life more true to stirrings inside of me, I’m going to write some more. Here. In this little corner of the internet.

I’m not sure my kids or grandkids will ever pull out an old laptop from storage and prop it up in their living room as decor, but I hope that if they do, it will remind them to do more of what stirs within them. Or better yet, through the love and strength I received from my mom and her story, my hope is that I can intentionally pass on the value of doing more of which is true to you and see where it takes you.

So here in this little tab we call The Root House, on our Root Design Company website, there will be some stories. Some may relate to design or food or family or none of the above.


As I thought about the words, The Root House, it all struck me as pretty appropriate. “Root” is defined as the source from which something grows. “House” is defined as a place where people dwell. We are all running our own little root houses growing and dwelling in a million different ways. Hoping encouragement comes from this place to take notice of it.