Part of the Mary Moment Monday series
I had an attack of PoorMe the other day. There was no good reason for it (but, really, is there ever?): I was just not feeling well and was watching a home improvement project take longer than usual (which is, sadly, normal with this place…we always seem to get into more than we bargain for). It was discouraging, somehow, to see two men I love dearly working so hard and coming up against hurdles and complications.
I was facing my own series of challenges in the house, between my temper and my girls. I saw a hole where a wall used to be and wondered how this house would ever be a haven, a place of beauty, a home. My washer had stopped working earlier in the week, and little things that normally don’t phase me were bringing me to my knees.
It was all looking pretty hopeless to me.
Things got better later in the day, and on Sunday, I woke up and, after breakfast and the semi-completion of the project, started thinking in a whole different way about things. What if, I thought, I made our porch entrance into something that would make us smile? What if I made a few small changes (valences on the windows, repainting the floor, moving the freezer to make the area look larger) and did a few small (and, for me, unfamiliar and uncomfortable) decorative improvements?
When I mentioned them to my husband, that Prince Charming who not only puts up with my whims and who keeps our castle livable, he was supportive. He even let me use his tape measure. 🙂 I measured here and I measured there. I made a list and a plan to go to the home improvement store where they must recognize us by now.
And, this morning, after my quiet devotional time, I went out and started the first step of my Pretty Porch Plan. I swept and lugged and battled cobwebs, all to the tune of the Divine Mercy Chaplet. I considered how differently I was looking at my entire house in light of this one small project.
Over the last ten years, I’ve come to the conclusion that home ownership is highly overrated. I might protest it, loudly and often, if not for the fact that I love the land that makes up our property, and I see beauty and peace all around me.
And then there’s the thought of what Mary would do. Did she feel ill-equipped in her home? Did she find herself wishing, longing, hoping for more and better? Did she wonder what God had in mind, exactly?
And if so, where did she find the strength to continue to say Yes, to embrace the call to higher work in the ordinary humdrum of her days?
I find her here, with me, in this old farmhouse, and it gives me hope. I need that hope right now. I’m clinging to it.
And I’m looking at color swatches for other areas of the house. 🙂