Reality Check!

So far I have enjoyed working on this blog and sharing the changes of the house.  While that is one of the main things I hope to share, it's not the only thing.

I hope to portray real life.  I've had people say to me "you look like you live in a magazine!,"or "that is so Pinterest!"  While these statements are meant as a compliment, I cringe a little.  I don't mean to paint the perfect picture.  Life isn't perfect.  When it comes to social media, for the most part I think we all tend to put our best self out there.  Pictures of our happy family vacations, the cute things our kids do, the pretty vignette in our entry way, or the amazing meal we made for dinner are usually the things that make us the happiest and we want to share them.  Generally, what we don't share is the screaming and fighting that happened in the back seat on our family vacation, when our kids yell at us, the mess in our family room, and the fast food meal we threw at our kids for dinner.  But sometimes that is reality.  In fact, most of the time that is reality!  And when we can all recognize that others are having those moments of craziness too, life feels better.  Because of our human nature we compare ourselves to others.  But we tend to compare our worst selves to others' best selves.

Someone once said to me that to me that it seemed like my trials were easier to endure because they were public and therefore I had lots of help and lots of prayers in my behalf and lots of support.
While many of the trials I have had in my life have been public, I have had my share of private trials as well.  Things I have never shared with anyone and things I have only shared with close family that have rocked me to the core.  We all have have private trials and when we can see that other's do too we play less of the comparison game and more on the side of the support team.

I have learned that you never really know the whole story or the full picture of another's life.  And to some degree it's better that way.  
What I am trying to say it there are a lot of people who suffer in silence, whose burdens are unknown and whose cries for help are only heard by God.  Just because we see a picture of them at the lake in their super cute bikini and tan, toned arms, doesn't mean they have the perfect life.  And we don't have to know all the details of their lives in order to love them, or to be happy for them, or to cheer them on.  Posts about a good time,  doesn't necessarily equal no hard times.  These are just highlights!

Off soapbox......
I have welcomed you into my home and my head.  So in lieu of that, here is the before and afters of our entryway.  The first room you see in the house.  MY has it changed!!!! (keep in mind a lot of the pictures I have of the house were from when my mom decorated for Christmas!)

And AFTER:

Reality Check!  Here is what it looks like most of the time!  A pillow who must have been victim to being aimed at another child, backpack that didn't make it past the front door on the last day of school an entire week ago, Lightning McQueen who makes it into every room throughout the day, one flip flip, a teacup, Mickey Mouse, a marker lid(really that one is just strange), a teacup and lego mini-figures.

 Still to do to the entryway:
-resand and stain floors (they haven't been redone in over 30 years)
-change railing to something more modern
-possibly paint hand rail and risers black
-replace sconces and chandelier

rug // plant basket // dresser (craigslist) // dresser hardware // vase // art (my mother's original)  windows (vintage) // paint is swiss coffee // You Are Here prints 

black round box (Goodwill) // cake plate and bust statue (vintage) // no whining banner

Hi! I'm Hillary!

My name is Hillary.  I am a native of Mesa, Arizona.  I am married to the biggest sweetheart, (literally he's 6'4") and together we have 5 children, 3 boys, 2 girls.   I learned how to be creative and imaginative from my mother.  I hope to help others as they read by sharing my love for design and inviting others to make their homes a place they love to be!

Photo Credit: Holly Erhard 

Photo Credit: Candice Drew

5 years ago my family moved into the home I was raised in.  Lots of memories and life's lessons were had in this home.  And now it's like the home is getting a second chance, another family to hold.  I am enjoying the process of making it my own, our own.   Growing up in the home, I saw everything through a child's eyes.  Now I view life with the eyes of a mother.
It was always a dream home to my parents, but I never really thought it would be mine one day.  My parents have both passed away, (you can read their stories here and here) and I like to think they would like what we've done with the place.  It still has a lot of the charm they built into it, and I've added my own modern touches, but I like to think the home still has it's same soul and holds the same love for the family within it's walls.

I share a lot of details about my parents because to me their lives were amazing and I don't want to forget the memories I share with them.  I feel like sharing them is not only therapy for me, but also entertaining and uplifting to others.
Much of this blog is dedicated to experiences and stories that happened in this home over the past 30+ years.

                                                        

My career right now is motherhood.  I am fortunate enough to be a stay at home mom.  It's always been my dream job and most of the time I LOVE it!  I would be lying if I didn't say there are times I just want to run away.  I call it a case of Motheritis!  I like to share this honesty in hopes of collaborating with other Moms on ways we can beat the mishaps of mommyhood and enjoy our dream job to it's fullest!

I LOVE to decorate!  It's my passion.  I have always dreamed of doing it professionally.  And one day I hope that dream will be a reality.  But I've got kids 5 and not enough time for a full time job.  So for now, I will share my passion with you in the decor and design of this place I am lucky to call my homestead house!  

                                                            Photo Credit: Sara Coral Photography

Home Can Be A Heaven on Earth

  In one of my favorite hymns I have learned, "home can be a heaven on earth, when it is filled with love."  My hope for this blog is to help others love their homes and feel of its duty and pride to shelter the family it holds.  The feeling inside is more important than square footage and decor.  If anyone needs reminding of this, it's me!  Scuffs on the walls and well worn floors are a testimony of a happy, active family.  I love the giddiness I feel with the vision of a well designed, clean home.  Magazine photos and Pinterest posts often make my heart skip a beat.  But the reality is, living isn't always clean or perfect.  And I've got plenty of crayon drawings on the wall to prove that!

When I was a year old, Mom and Dad built a house.  It was their dream home.  Dad was a builder and Mom an interior designer, so naturally they made a great team.  Mom dreamed of a victorian home on the east coast, but we lived in the desert.  She thought it up, and he made it happen.  It was beautiful.    A lot of hard work and sweat went into the building of this home.  My dad and many of his brothers and friends helped him create a custom masterpiece he would live in and raise our family for the next couple of decades.

 This pic was taken in 1984.  The home was about 3 years old.  

(I love that you can see my Mom's shadow taking the pic!)

A few years later, Mom decided to paint the home yellow with white trim.  She added some country touches, hanging planters, a dinner bell on the porch, and the flagpole. 

Then about a decade or so later, the home was repainted a brighter yellow with a green door and the cement walkway was replaced with vintage brick.  This picture was taken around 2000.

 Mom and Dad have both passed away (you can read their stories here and here)  and my husband and our 5 children now live in the home.  Its a bitter sweet experience to renovate a home you were raised in.  So many memories came with the tearing down of walls and stripping wall paper.  For me, my home is my haven.  Its where I spend 99% of my days.  Its the place I want my children to run to for peace and protection.   

  Lots of memories and life's lessons were had in this home.  And now it's like the home is getting a second chance, another family to hold.  I am enjoying the process of making it my own, our own.  When we have moved walls or stripped wallpaper, we often find penciled measurements under it all in my dad's handwriting.   It was always a dream home to my parents, but I never really thought it would be mine one day.  I just sort of thought it would always be mom and dad's.  When my mom was sick, we went for a drive just she and my brothers and I.  We talked about future plans, things we loved about each other, and she shared her testimony of Christ with us.  When I told her we wanted to keep the home in the family she was genuinely pleased!  I like to think they would like what we've done with the place.  It still has a lot of the charm they built into it, and I've added my own modern touches, but I like to think the home still has it's same soul and holds the same love for the family within it's walls.  My brothers feel like they are coming home whenever they come in town to visit, because in a way, they are.  We still have the same snack drawer in the kitchen that they all rifle through upon arriving.  We still stay up late sitting on the kitchen counter just talking.  The kids slide down the banister railing, the way we used to when we were young.  We sit on the porch swing during thunderstorms and watch the lightning.

  Over the last 30 + years, the house has changed, but the feeling inside is just the same.  

And this is how the Homestead House looks now!

The roof was redone before we even moved in.  I miss the charm of the shake style roof, but we had leaks and problems that needed fixed. 

We removed the old porch railing and had the beams wrapped in columns.  The exterior was given a fresh coat of Swiss Coffee paint with bright white trim.  We wanted to replace all the windows on the house, but the quote definitely not in our budget, so for now we had the painters freshen up the windows by painting the frames black.  It really makes them pop!  We also replaced the front door and had it trimmed out.

 The ferns are one of my favorite touches.  I have seen them in so many inspiration pictures.  The porch ceiling was painted a light blue as is customary in many southern homes.  

With each monsoon season, the pine trees made us nervous.  They were very close to the house, particularly the boys bedroom and two of them were leaning towards the house.  It was a sad choice but we had all 4 of them removed.  They served this home well and provided lots of shade all summer long.  My brother who is a genius creator had all the wood milled and has built dining tables and benches with it.  I have lots of ideas I would also like him to use the wood for!  Eventually we would like to plant some new trees and redo all the landscaping, but again, not in the budget for now.

Photo Credit: Holly Erhard

I think she looks like a pretty happy home.  What do you think!?

 "Home can be a heav'n on earth

When we are filled with love,

Bringing happiness and joy,

Rich blessings from above—

Warmth and kindness, charity,

Safety and security—

Making home a part of heaven,

Where we want to be.

 Drawing fam'ly near each week,

We'll keep love burning bright.

Serving Him with cheerful hearts,

We'll grow in truth and light.

Parents teach and lead the way,

Children honor and obey,

Reaching for our home in heaven,

Where we want to stay.

 Praying daily in our home,

We'll feel His love divine;

Searching scriptures faithfully,

We'll nourish heart and mind.

Singing hymns of thanks, we'll say,

"Father, help us find the way

Leading to our home in heaven,

Where we long to stay."

(LDS Hymnbook)

lanterns Ballard Designs
porch swing Ballard Designs
porch chairs Ikea
front door Home Depot

Living Room- Before & After

The living room was actually termed "the parlor" by my old-fashioned mother.  She always said she had been born in the wrong era and was supposed to have been on earth when ladies wore corsets and had tea parties and entertained visitors in their parlors!  

This is the room you first see as you walk into the house.  As you can tell from the before pictures, it had quite the victorian charm.  This is the only picture I could find with this angle of the room showing, apparently someone got a tonka truck for Christmas that year!  On any given day you could find one of us kids sliding down the banister and often this room was used as a faster way to get to the kitchen if you were hoping to beat someone to dinner, and we would hear mom yell, "no running in the house!"  Up these two little steps was our stage and the grown ups were forced to sit and watch our made up plays and pageants!

 At Christmas time my mom really went all out in decor.  The stained mantel was always a focal point for all of Mom's decor.  The mantel is also a two way, (another mantel opens on the other side of the wall into the family room) so you could lay in this room and listen to grown ups in the other room or spy while playing hide and seek!

 Under the bay windows sat a "fainting sofa".  Mom picked this up on one of her antique shopping trips and it sat under these windows for years.  We hated the thing!  It was super stiff and we would forget when we plopped down to lay on it!  Off to the left of this photo was an upright piano and was where us kids spent lots of time doing our dreaded piano practicing, which often just turned into daydreaming at the piano.  We would hold family concerts and meetings in this room.

For years my mom had talked of stripping the wallpaper and lightening up this room.  When she was really sick from chemo treatments she had to spend a few nights in the hospital.  I decided this was the time.  I headed over and got to work with my step sister, Afton.  We stripped the wallpaper, painted the walls a pistachio green color that was mom's favorite, and even had our Grandpa come over and craft the lower half of the walls and add the bookshelves on either side of the mantel.  When Mom came home from the hospital the first thing she saw was this room as she was wheeled into the house.  She sat and looked and cried.  She was very happy with the turnout.  She called it her temple room because it was so bright and light.  

After my own family and I moved into the house a year later, I did some more tweaking and made it my own.  

The bookshelves are filled with some of my family treasures.  Books that belonged to my grandmother, a large dried hydrangea from my mother's funeral bouquets, an iron horse head from the gates on the farm my dad grew up on and a pretty statue of a woman that my mother cherished.  

We now use this room for piano practicing, family time, Sunday quiet time, reading, and still the kids use the "stage" for plays.

The piano belongs to the entire family and we are still not quite sure what to do with it.  It is a completely restored antique Steinway piano, originally built in 1876 and was a treasure my mom was lucky enough to come across.

 I love this room because it stays clean 99% of the time, aside from occasional flip flops and random legos.  I can go in there to have some peace.  This artwork Resurrection by Mark Mabry was a gift given to me from my husband on Mothers Day the year we moved into the home.

coffee table West Elm

loveseat and chair Ikea

chandelier Overstock

pillows Home Goods

floral planter Anthropologie, similar here

Mom and Dad

In May of 2002, just four days before I left to begin work as a missionary for my church, my father, who was also the Bishop of our congregation, was diagnosed with lung cancer.  He was told he had three to eight months to live.  This news was devastating.  But our faith was strong and we could not despair.  We felt the Lord would take care of him.  I left for the mission field with thoughts of concern for my father, not knowing if I would ever see him again.  I was leaving for 18 months.  I loved serving the Lord and the people of Virginia!  I began to gain new knowledge, more faith, and a love for the gospel I never imagined I could have.

The day before I left.  We had just received the news of his diagnosis a few days before.   I remember feeling how proud of me my Dad was.  

Throughout my mission I received much encouragement and support from my family and loved ones at home, and often my mother would update me on the condition of my father.  As his only daughter, I cherished his letters and the advice he gave me as both my dad, and my Bishop.  Miracle after miracle occurred and that “three to eight months” had gone by with a newfound hope that maybe he could endure this dreaded disease.  Everyone was amazed at his ability to go on despite his pain and discomfort.  I was informed by tapes, letters and pictures of the miracle that the Lord blessed him with more than the expected three to eight months.  

Below are some of the pictures I received in letters. 

Even starting treatments, he was smiling.

The grandkids shaved their heads to be like Grandpa!  When I saw these pictures of him, I panicked.  I didn't know he had lost his hair and was surprised to see him so sick looking.

My youngest brother, who was 12 at the time.

With six weeks left in the field my mission was winding down and thoughts of home crept into my mind often.  Especially thoughts about returning home to see a super cute boy I had been writing every single week.   I loved serving, and loved being a missionary!  One day in late August my companion and I were having a quick lunch break before going back out into the humid heat of Virginia to find more people to teach.  The phone rang and it was our Mission President calling.  He informed me that he had just spoken with my mother and that after much prayer she felt it very necessary for me to return home early.  The condition of my father had weakened, new complications had taken over and he wasn’t expected to live much longer.  My mother had told my mission president if I wanted to see my father again, I needed to come home.  I was shocked!  I hung up the phone and immediately asked the Lord for his guidance.  Many questions flooded my mind but in the back of it, I felt confident knowing my mother had always known best and always sought the Lord’s will.  I was on a flight the very next day.

I was scared, worried, and confused, but the Comforter I had depended on for the last 16 months was again right there with me as I boarded the airplane and left for home in Arizona.  Although I was returning to my family who loved me, I knew I was going home to the reality I had always dreaded from the day my dad was diagnosed.  My family greeted me at the airport and we immediately headed for the hospital where my dad had been for the last week.  My mother tried to prepare me for how different my dad would look since the last time I had seen him and she sputtered medical lingo at me that went right through my head.  Everyone else in my family had been with him through the whole experience and although I had received occasional pictures I was not prepared to see him so differently.  I hesitated to enter the room, but my oldest brother put his arm around me, assured me it would be alright and walked me in.  Nothing could prepare me to see my father, whom I remembered as an agile, friendly, healthy person, now in a hospital bed, bald, thin and pale.  It was difficult.  I didn’t quite know what to think, how to act, or what to say.  I took my father’s frail hand and as my mom announced to him I was now right there at his bedside, he opened his eyes.  Immediately he smiled, teeth and all, a smile mom later informed me they hadn’t seen in weeks.  With all the strength he had, he lifted both arms and motioned for a hug.  “Oh Hillary”, he said, “It’s so good to see you!”  I was in his arms again.  Although this time they were not as firm and strong, they still held bundles of love and fatherly protection.  As I began to release myself from him to stand, he again motioned for another hug and held me tight to him.  

Just a few short hours later, family members and friends gathered in the hospital room to sing hymns both comforting my father and ourselves.  He took his last few breaths, just 12 hours after I returned home.

When I look back on the experience and the timing of how everything happened, I am amazed at the blessing of having the Gift of the Holy Ghost.   Although his passing was difficult, I can only imagine how much harder it would have been for me, had I not been there with the rest of my family.  I am grateful I could have that spiritual experience with them.  My father's life touched so many people and I truly believe the battle he fought was not in vain.  Even though he wasn't victorious, everyone in his life had experiences that made us all stronger.

I struggled tremendously with the loss of my dad.  I had never experienced death in such a personal way.  I had faith in Christ and knew there was a plan, but still, there was a hole in my heart.  I couldn't get out of bed.  I didn't care about anything or anyone.  Reality was a fog to me.  I even felt like I couldn't feel as close to the Lord as I once had been.  I can remember one particular day, after months of feeling numb to the world, I told my best friend, (and now husband) I thought there was something wrong with me.  I had always thought of depression as some kind of funk people needed to just get out of.  After meeting with a therapist and doctor to treat my particular issues, I slowly, over time emerged from a dark place I never want to return to.  But it wasn't just the medication or the therapy sessions that did the trick.  I learned about the Atonement of Christ in a very real and personal way.  Sure I knew I could overcome sin through His sacrifice and I knew He could heal me of other imperfections.  But through this experience of immense mental pain and sorrow, I learned that He knew me.  I learned that His Atonement also covered my heartache.  He was the only one who knew of my suffering.  And when I realized that and turned to Him to take it from me, He did.  

A few months after this, I can remember writing a letter to a friend who had just lost her mother to cancer.  I was just trying to be Christlike and give her some words of understanding.  I told her I more or less knew how she was feeling, but I also told her, as hard as it was losing my father, I didn't know what I would do if I lost my Mom.  A girl without her mom is like a....well I didn't want to know.  My mom and I were the best of friends, more like sisters really.  I couldn't imagine the loss my friend was dealing with.

In the midst of this "recovery", 6 months after my father died, I married my sweetheart in the Mesa, AZ temple.  He was the one anchor I had.  I can remember many sleepless nights asking him over and over why he would even want to be with someone as messed up as me.  He was patient, and understanding.  He prayed for and with me.  I will admit that first year of our marriage, I was a mess.  And he knew it.  But he didn't give up on me.  We moved to the Bay Area while he went to school and started our family there.  Our oldest 2 children were born in California and we had such great experiences while living there.  After three years, we moved back to our home state and began his future practice and my life as a mother.

Incredibly, just 6 years after my father passed away, we received news that my mother had been diagnosed with lung cancer.  My third child was just 3 days old.  This news was heart breaking.  I had overcome depression, post traumatic distress, and anxiety after watching my father die.  The same dreaded disease we lost my father to, now took hold of my mother’s body.  Although the doctors were somewhat hopeful, all I could think of was cancer = death.  Thoughts of losing her caused me anxiety.  With a newborn and two more young children at home, I couldn’t spend all the time I wanted to with her.  But my church family stepped in and organized a babysitting schedule.  They took turns watching my children while I took my mom to her chemotherapy treatments, doctor appointments, or even just to take her shopping. 

 For a year my mother went through radiation and chemotherapy and all the while she did it with a smile on her face.  Never once did I hear her complain, (you can read her journey here) even when she lost her beautiful dark hair. After just 11 months, her body succumbed to the cancer and she too, passed away. 

How could this happen.....again?  I dreaded the depression I knew was coming.  I worried I would go back into that dark despair.  A place I never wanted to be again.  I prayed and prayed.  I begged the Lord to help me through.  And He did.  I can honestly say, that losing my mother was one of the hardest things I have been through.  She was my closest friend.  People knew our relationship more as sisters.  But the Lord helped me through.   

 My brothers and I at Mom's funeral.

   
I can't even begin to explain the way the Lord carried me.   The reason I share this with you is not for sympathy, but because I want to share what I have learned through it all.  I have learned that there is no greater blessing than an eternal family.  Having a knowledge of a Savior, an older brother, who sacrificed all so that we could gain eternal life with our families, is what gives me peace and hope and the will to continue.  Do I miss them?  Everyday.  I think about them constantly.  I have wished they could be here to kiss the cheeks of all my babies, and to come to all their t ball games, or orchestra concerts.  I have wished I could just pick up the phone and brag to my mom about the latest potty training success or cry to her about the loads of laundry that are never ending!  I have thought about the projects I could ask my dad to do around the house and the building knowledge and talent he had.  I have wished he could have been here when our oldest was baptized, or when our youngest took her first steps.  But they are not here.  And I have come to the point in my life where I am ok with that.  Because I know one day, this life will seem a memory and the reality of a new life, one with no death or sickness or pain or sorrow, will trump all.  

This is how I picture Mom and Dad now.  This pic was taken just days before his diagnosis.