Brian Maloy

Tower House became our home for 14 months, almost to the day. After all, home isn’t necessarily a building per se, but where you go back to, where you remain, where you are safe, and where your family dwells. It’s a curious thing, because many people move around often, are empty-nesters, or any combination of household, nevertheless, where we sleep each night, where we cook our meals, where we invite others in, where we dwell — becomes home.

I say all that to say that I do believe “place” is an important and meaningful idea in the human mind. We see woven into our fabric from the beginning in the Garden with Adam and Eve, they belonged to a place. Throughout scripture, even in the sojourn of Abraham and his descendants, there was a place they were meant to dwell eventually. So I don’t have a well formed theology of place yet, but I know this year has pushed me deeper to try and grasp that mystery. 

I know I have felt at home many places, the house I grew up in, the home we lived in during our own sojourn in the Texas Hill Country, the house I became a young adult in, my college dorm room, my backpacking tent after several summers of mostly sleeping in that small nylon space, and the house Clara and I bought together (with about a month and a half to fix it up to move in right after we were married). 

The house we bought together on Tescord was the house we came home from our honeymoon to (flooded basement and all). It was the house we learned to be married. It was the home we prayed and prayed, and decided to become Foster Parents. It was the living room where Jack & Arissa came home and never left. It was the living room where Bear came home from the hospital (right after I became a teacher… that was a year!), and it was the house we shed tears in during the scary times of Foster Care, in the uncertainty and waiting. It was the house where we actually had a pretty wonderful COVID lockdown because we all 5 got to be together, went on tons of small adventures, and created great memories. It was the house we said goodbye to our beloved Beau (who was the perfect gentlemen Border Collie/Aussie for our kids to feel safe when they came home). It was the house where our kids were adopted, as courtrooms had not reopened yet, and they were adopted on Zoom 🙂 There were ups and downs here, hard days, and beautiful days — and it was our home. 

The loss of that will always stick with us, it’s impossible not to remember how important it was in our story. God used it to grow, mold, and prepare us for each next thing. And thank the Lord for that. All that said, I am really reminded of this truth — Psalm 90:1, which is written by Moses as a prayer, “Lord, You have been our dwelling place, from generation to generation”. Moses himself, living and leading his people in the wilderness to the Promised Land, still saw how Yahweh, God Himself was our real dwelling place. They were on route to their physical dwelling place, but their spiritual dwelling place was with them all along. So in all this, I too must be reminded that He is our true Home, He is the place we are called to abide. He is calling us to Himself, to find true and lasting rest, to be truly home — wherever we may be.

In the destruction of it, the restoration process has been tough to not see the hands of God shaping each of the next steps. We lost everything, including our sweet Sophie (our blonde Aussie), but in the wilderness of waiting this year, He was making things new. He was restoring what had been lost, He was preparing a new place for us. While I am certainly not comparing our lovely new home to eternity, I do think it harkens wonderfully and mysteriously to the final work Jesus will do in the hearts of those who love Him. He will finally rid us of all the brokenness, the sin, the hurt, the pain — and He will restore us as the perfect image bearers we were created to be. So our home is a beautiful metaphor for the work of restoration Jesus does in our hearts when we are drawn near to Him. The temporary restoration of our home in this world, whispers toward the future restoration where all things will be made new. 

So now (as of February 27), we are back at Tescord. We have lovingly dubbed the new re-build in the exact place (and foundation) of our old home, Phoenix House. After all, it’s risen from the ashes into a new thing. It’s beautiful, and restored. It was made new again. Even its name reminds us that God brings life from ashes, both in our homes and in our hearts. It’s not completely done, there are many little things on the punch list to finish up, we technically just have one full bathroom totally “online”, the yard is a quagmire of mud and straw, we went through four hood vents for the kitchen, and the garage is full of boxes to unpack and sort. BUT, we are home, we are under one roof now. 

This new home is truly a good gift, but it’s not the ultimate gift. This house is a taste, but not the fullness of what is to come, we live in the “already but not yet”-ness of this world and that is to come. 

We have also been blessed beyond measure. You cannot walk around the rooms of our new home and not see God’s provision in every part. We have been showered with love from friends and family who have prayed with us, fed us, hugged us, reminded us of God’s goodness, and overwhelmed us with homecoming gifts to help us settle quickly. I don’t actually know how to show my deep gratitude, it brings me to tears, and I wish I could express it more fully this side of eternity. Somehow, writing this, I know those generous friends know, and someday in eternity we will smile and celebrate what God did in this season of life, how He used our heartache to draw us nearer to Him, and point others to Himself. We will someday see how, in the “mended wood”, all the little intricacies we cannot see fully now. I am excited for that time to come. 

In the meantime, I must leave us here with a few verses from Isaiah 43 — in this world we dearly need hope. Regardless of the largeness or smallness of our trials — we live in a broken world, and we need constant reminders of the Kingdom that has come, and is to come. All of Isaiah 43 is worthwhile to read, but here are two that bring me much peace in tumult. 

Isaiah 43:1-2 (LSB)
But now, thus says Yahweh, your Creator, O Jacob,
And He who formed you, O Israel,
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name; you are Mine!
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
And through the rivers, they will not overflow you.
When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched,
Nor will the flame burn you.

Isaiah 43:18-19
“Do not remember the former things,
Nor carefully consider things of the past.
Behold, I will do something new;
Now it will spring forth;
Will you not know it?
I will even make a roadway in the wilderness,
Rivers in the wasteland.

And so we rest in these promises — that the God who calls us by name, who walks with us through waters and fire, is the same God who is even now making all things new.