Friday, January 4, 2013

It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home.

I received this poem in the mail today.  My mother-in-law made a copy and sent it to us with a sweet note.  I love poetry.  And this poem speaks all the thoughts of my heart as of late.  

My very next post was going to be about what it takes to make a house a home, as that is what I have been thinking about lately.  

I started pinning paint colors for the new house, and then my pins (and thoughts) branched out to what I'd like the spaces of our home to be used for.  Is there room in some corner of the kitchen for a writing station?  Where will we store our scriptures to easily access them in the morning as we study together? And then, what words of wisdom should we place on the walls, and what daily traditions should we start (or leave behind) as we set up our new home?

Anyway, this poem really shares what it is that makes a house a home.  I hope that you enjoy it.  

And if you see any ideas on Pinterest that you think we might want to implement in our new house, give me a shout-out! (You can find me here:


It takes a heap o’ livin’ in a house t’ make it home,
A heap o’ sun an’ shadder, an’ ye sometimes have t’ roam
Afore ye really ’preciate the things ye lef’ behind,
An’ hunger fer ’em somehow, with ’em allus on yer mind.
It don’t make any differunce how rich ye get t’ be,
How much yer chairs an’ tables cost, how great yer luxury;
It ain’t home t’ ye, though it be the palace of a king,
Until somehow yer soul is sort o’ wrapped round everything.

Home ain’t a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute;
Afore it’s home there’s got t’ be a heap o’ livin’ in it;
Within the walls there’s got t’ be some babies born, and then
Right there ye’ve got t’ bring ‘em up t’ women good, an’ men;
And gradjerly, as time goes on, ye find ye wouldn’t part
With anything they ever used—they’ve grown into yer heart:
The old high chairs, the playthings, too, the little shoes they wore
Ye hoard; an’ if ye could ye’d keep the thumbmarks on the door.

Ye’ve got t’ weep t’ make it home, ye’ve got t’ sit an’ sigh
An’ watch beside a loved one’s bed, an’ know that Death is nigh;
An’ in the stillness o’ the night t’ see Death’s angel come,
An’ close the eyes o’ her that smiled, an’ leave her sweet voice dumb.
Fer these are scenes that grip the heart, an’ when yer tears are dried,
Ye find the home is dearer than it was, an’ sanctified;
An’ tuggin’ at ye always are the pleasant memories
O’ her that was an’ is no more—ye can’t escape from these.

Ye’ve got t’ sing an’ dance fer years, ye’ve got t’ romp an’ play,
An’ learn t’ love the things ye have by usin’ ’em each day;
Even the roses ’round the porch must blossom year by year
Afore they ’come a part o’ ye, suggestin’ someone dear
Who used t’ love ’em long ago, an’ trained ’em jes’ t’ run
The way they do, so’s they would get the early mornin’ sun;
Ye’ve got t’ love each brick an’ stone from cellar up t’ dome:
It takes a heap o’ livin’ in a house t’ make it home.


  1. This might be the best thing you have ever done here. And there are many!

  2. in the olden days of the past, many people lived in the same house their whole life-well your parents almost did-then there are more memories-but on to new ones.

    1. Except maybe when our country was being founded and expanding...then lots of people had to pick up and move their families and create a new place to call home...quite successfully too! But I did love growing up and living in the same house all my life! What a treasure!

  3. Wonderful! We believe that if the house is brimming with love, then it's a home. I always tell my children that our house may be small but it is bursting at the seams with love.

  4. Our scriptures didn't have a home. First we had a basket with our materials which we kept on a cabinet in our dining room. Finally I found the perfect sideboard with large cabinet below for all of our church material. Sometimes it's about seeking out the perfect pieces of furniture that really serve a purpose and make you happy too.

  5. It really does take a heap o' livin', which is why I always find it hard to pull up roots and move.
    But in the end, every house does become a home if the family makes it one.

    Happy paint pinning!


  6. Edgar Guest is my favorite poet. A few years ago, my mom gave me original copies of all of his books. They are worn around the edges, but I absolutely love them. My favorite Edgar Guest poem is "It Couldn't Be Done":

    1. Thanks for sharing...that was an awesome one too!

  7. This post really made me smile! :-) Thanks for the inspiration.

  8. I loved your poem. We moved a lot when I was growing up and then also in my married life. Each home held lovely memories. I can still remember the floor plan of each home. Thinking about a home brings back many memories of our lives living in those homes. Blessings to you as you make this transition in your lives. Always remember the precious moments in the home you are leaving and the new moments in your new home.

  9. This post made me smile because we're in pretty much the same situation. We moved a little less than a month ago and our second night in the new home I was tucking my 8 year old in and she said it didn't feel like home yet. I told her of course it didn't - it takes memories to make a house a home! Of course then a week or two later she got sick and informed me that she was making memories in this house but not the good kind!

    1. Oh bless her little heart! So sweet...Later, that WILL be a funny memory.

  10. Great site Jocelyn! Your sense of family and family progression is great to watch throughout your site. You make a person smile with the happiness you share with your children.