Nana's Dream House

The first Sunday of the new year I greeted the morning with equal parts relief and sadness. My house was quiet. It was also clean. The day before I’d opted out of a social obligation on the grounds of a cold, which was true enough. I was exhausted. After ten solid days of holiday events and bunks overflowing with family, I was quite desperate for time alone. Time to put my house in order. Not a “boxing day” in the tradition sense. (I like to savor the beauty of Christmas on the other side of the frenzy.) What I needed was the therapy of scrubbing floors and folding laundry to the delightful tune of silence. 

And then, the next morning, I tiptoed downstairs in stockinged feet, habitually considering my sleeping houseguests. Immediately met with bittersweet awareness. They were gone. And it was over. I could feel the ache in my chest. 

This is my ongoing dilemma. I love my people. I also love quiet. 

I am what the experts call a “social introvert” and lately I’ve been doing a bit of research on what this means. Mostly because I desire to show up for my family as the best possible version of myself. For their sake and mine. 

According to Adam S. McHugh in his book, Introverts in the Church: 

Theologically speaking, we can say that we are created as introverts. When our Creator knit us together, he shaped our brains in such a way that we would find satisfaction in reflection and comfort in a slower, calmer way of life. 

Here are (a few) common attributes of introverts*: 

• Prefer to relax alone or with a few close friends

• Enjoy deep relationships

• Need rest after activity

• Tend to spend time thinking before we speak or act

• Often prefer writing over speaking 

• Prefer a quiet atmosphere 

• Don’t like feeling rushed

• Etc. 

There’s actually a whole lot of fascinating brain science around this. I won’t bore you with the details. Except to say, when I read lists like this, I am absolutely certain, God created me this way on purpose! 

Recently I listened to an old TED Talk with Susan Cain. Her “Power of Introverts” has garnered around 17 million views on YouTube since she shared it live thirteen years ago, and one story in particular stood out to me, igniting my own imagination. Susan remembers cherishing time with her “introverted grandfather” at his New York apartment. In Cain’s own words:

“My grandfather was a rabbi and he was a widower who lived alone, in a small apartment in Brooklyn, that was my favorite place in the world when I was growing up. Partly because it was filled with his very gentle, very courtly presence, and partly because it was filled with books… My grandfather’s favorite thing in the world was to read. But he also loved his congregation, and you could feel the love in the sermons he gave every week for the 62 years he was a rabbi.” 

This scene is much like the fantasy dancing in my imagination whenever I dream of my future home. Not the part about living alone, God willing. But a gentle place full of books and beauty. A quiet space in a world of noise. And maybe a favorite place for at least one grandchild.

During their holiday visit, we took our son Nils, along with his wife and toddler, on a tour of Anoka. They wanted to see the house where we hope to live. They were also thinking of their own future home. Nils and Brina love California for lots of reasons. But they’re far from family. And come summer little Quoia is expecting to be a big brother. “Home is not all about the weather,” they tell us. “Home is where our people live.”

Living at our lake house has all kinds of up-sides. Much like living in California. It’s a little taste of heaven, and we love it here for many reasons. But we also find ourselves residing in a giant house that’s a bit too far from our people, making it more of a destination. A party waiting to happen. We fill bunks for a few wild days, and then it’s over.

I’ve spent lots of time wondering about next Christmas. What would it be like to live in a place where “holidays” have time and space to be a little more holy? Where grandkids can walk down the street to set up the nativity with Nana? Or stop by after school for cocoa and a favorite story? And where baby snuggles can happen every single week? 

Of course, not all of my grandchildren are going to be wired for quiet days with Nana. And I get it. I am quite content to leave the fun and adventures to Papi. And also to Mimi and Papa—my oldest son’s kids spend lots of time with their other grandparents, who have snowmobiles and snowboards and hockey rinks. Being Nana isn’t about keeping up or competing. It’s about being present and offering my particular version of love. Which is to say, I’ll be okay on the sidelines. Watching. Smiling. Taking it in. Praying. 

And, God willing, if anyone needs a break from the crazy… Nana’s door will be open for a bit of cozy and quiet. As well as a favorite book. 

*This list is based on McHugh’s book