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The Fork

Melissa Beene Ford/ Uncategorized

I was talking with a friend recently about our kids, and commiserating over false friends and broken hearts that hurt us mamas far more than they hurt the kids, and she had these words of wisdom:

This is the point in their lives, she said, that they come to a fork in the road. This is the point where they decide who they are, and who their friends are. Kids they’ve been friends with their whole lives, suddenly don’t fit anymore. And that’s OK. This is the point where they grow up and become themselves. They release what isn’t working for them anymore and move on.

It’s not a crisis; it’s growing pains.

Safe to say I’ve faced my own fork in the road, as well.

There’s a reason there haven’t been many blog posts since, oh, January 2015… until this past week, that is.

And though I could fill many blogs with all the sordid stories of lies upon lies, abuse and betrayal and shattered dreams and crying my body weight in tears that forced me to stop writing because I could barely stop the drowning, I won’t.

Not yet, at least.

But the last four years have hardly been all horrible.

It’s been a lot like Psalm 40, the one Bono sang about. There was a pit and some miry clay, for sure, but then there was God lifting me out of it and setting my feet on a rock. It was most definitely God, and I came to love Him in a whole new way that I never would have had it not been for the pit and the clay.

I can’t wait to tell you that story.

But back to the fork.

I have loved this blog. It’s been a creative outlet for me since 2006. It’s woven into the fabric of my life, and there are pictures of my kids as tiny babies here. I have been Melissa From the Blue House for over thirteen years. I LOVE that I have this scrapbook of their lives because I love looking back and remembering so, so many happy times.

I LOVE looking back at my Blue House, that tiny little renovation project that started this whole thing. That house, and raising those kids in it, was my dream.

But I moved out of that house in 2010.

And a lot changed in the nine years since 2010. #understatement

This blog was my therapy through all of it. I loved telling my stories, and NEEDED to tell my stories, and I was amazed that so many people actually read it. I’ve made friends from all over the country through this blog. There have been so many signs that God gave me something here…

… and I’m supposed to be using it.

God gave me a voice.

God gave me an audience.

God did.

And I could fill many blogs with all the sordid stories of all the ways the enemy tried to destroy that, but I won’t.

Because God says to talk about what’s true, noble, right, pure, lovely, and admirable. I’ve tried my best to delete everything on The Blue House Blog related to the parts of my life and the people in it who were NOT lovely and admirable, and it’s left gaping holes in the blog.

The Blue House itself is on it’s second set of owners since I left in 2010.

I have thought for the past four years about deleting The Blue House Blog and starting over, but the stories here on this blog are an important part of my history. I just refuse to let it be a monument to the shattered dreams and painful memories.

And so I’ve decided not to bury the Blue House Blog, but I can move on from the Blue House.

Did you know I have a new (old) house now?

It’s yellow. And it’s an amazing story. I can’t wait to tell you about it.

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About Me


Hey there... I'm Melissa! Texas girl. Mom to three + one goldendoodle. Believer. Old house fanatic. Creating a happy + healthy home with purpose is my passion. I'm so glad you're here!

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I don’t know who’s big idea it was to strip 80 I don’t know who’s big idea it was to strip 80 years of paint off of this door down to the wood and start over… but that person has no business starting new projects. 😅 My neighbors must have thought this project would never end. *I* thought this project would never end. 😰 If you’re thinking of doing this yourself? Just don’t, ok? Throw the whole door away and buy a new one. 😂🤣 Just kidding.  Old house weirdos like me… we can’t just do things the easy way. Anyhoo… after some trial and error, @sherwinwilliams Celestial is what I landed on, and I have to say… I like it. Periwinkle-ish blue looks great with the yellow house and will look even better when the azaleas are in bloom. Was it all worth it? That’s not important right now. 🤭 Will I do this all again in two years? The magic eight ball says… without a doubt. 👏🏻 I’ve already picked the next color. #gluttonforpunishment #somefoolsneverlearn #oldhouselove #oldhomelove #makinghome #southernliving #gardenandgun #azaleadistrict #tylertx
Spring in the Azalea District makes the winters in Spring in the Azalea District makes the winters in an 80-year-old house completely worth it … what broken pipes, icy hardwood floors and drafty windows? 🤔 I forgot already. #comeonspring #azaleadistrict #tylertx
Happy Saturday ☀️ Happy Saturday ☀️
Salt Lake City is always magical ✨ Salt Lake City is always magical ✨
2022 had its highs and lows for sure, but scrollin 2022 had its highs and lows for sure, but scrolling through my pics from the last twelve months made me realize how blessed and content I am. Prosperity, love, and peace have been ours in abundance, in spite of the pain of losing my dad. The second picture is the last picture of him… the last time I saw him. 💔 But God has been good to my family this year and 2022 is ending far better than it began. 😄 #2022inreview #thanksforthememories
Who wants a Christmas tour of my home? 🙋🏼‍ Who wants a Christmas tour of my home? 🙋🏼‍♀️
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That’s it. That’s the tour. (Slide two). 
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It’s a new trend I’m starting: bare Christmas tree. Lowe’s tag still attached (so quirky and unexpected)! Christmas ornaments still in boxes. Coming soon to an Anthropologie window display near you. 
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Every year I think, “next year I’ll do better. Next year I’ll have it together.” And then, here we are on the SIXTH Christmas that we’ve been in this house, the sixth Christmas I’ve dragged our chaotic bunch of Christmas mess out of a chaotic garage I still haven’t unpacked from our move six years ago. 
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Maybe this year is the year I’ll organize it all and put it back neatly so that by Christmas number 7, it will be smooth sailing. People will flock to my social media to see how I’ve pulled everything off SO PERFECTLY. Next year will be my year. 
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Seems every year there’s less and less bandwidth for all these things. There’s more grief and stress, less money. More demands, less grace. 
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I put this sign on the wall in my office so I could keep it in front of my eyes: Love. Joy. Peace. And all that. I am SO unlike Jesus most days. So lacking in all of these character qualities. And that’s WITH waking up most mornings and spending my first 30 minutes with God Himself. 
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How lost would I be without that? Geez. I can’t fathom. I REQUIRE being transformed by renewing my mind every single morning, and even then, responding to people and life with love, joy, peace and patience doesn’t come naturally. 
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It’s the goal, though. 
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This weary world needs that from us Believers during this season, more than ever… even more than an Anthropologie-window-display worthy Christmas home tour. 
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I’m working on both.
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