Some people have skeletons in their closets, we have a man in our basement.
For almost a year this man has lived in the dark recesses of our home, silent as a mouse, happy as a clam.
To be most sincere, his living in our home has been a dream come true.
To maintain his privacy (though many locals know) I’ll just call him JB (not to be mistaken for J Biebs).
JB went to school, since kindergarten, and graduated with our daughter. I got to work in classes he was in for numerous years. It was he who, sometime in early high school years, gave me the nickname that stuck for years at school (Mrs. Wheatie, as opposed to Mrs. Wheaton).
Many times, in his high school years, he and I (and my hubby) joked that one day he would rent and live in the suite of our home.
In January of this year, the joke became reality, as JB and his family gradually migrated his earthly belongings to the suite in our basement.
JB is like family to us.
We appreciate how he respects us in his polite quietness (even if we really think he could make more noise than he does). We enjoy seeing each other in passing, or when he joins us for a meal, or sitting on the deck in the sunshine.
Easter and Thanksgiving would not have been the same without JB joining us for a family meal, and an exceptionally competitive game of Dutch Blitz.
JB is gentle-hearted, generous, positive and considerate. We are blessed to have this young man in our lives, in our family … in our basement.
Happy Birthday JB! We all love you.
“Every time your name comes up in my prayers, I say,
“Oh, thank you, God!”
Philemon 1:4
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