I finished painting the trim in the living room today, the living room in the new-to-us-rental house. The sun was shining through all of the south and west facing windows and even though those windows hadn’t been washed yet, the light was still golden across the parquet wooden floor. It took us a solid two weeks of hard work to refinish that floor, and I was rather distracted by its warm honey tones, the same tones we had refinished the floors with in our original Big House. I don’t really talk to floors like I do to plants, but if I did, I imagine I’d say something like, “Oh, hi there…you look vaguely familiar…” except it wouldn’t be vague at all because I know where that tung oil came from. So it took more effort to pay attention to the bristles on my brush gliding semigloss along two and a half inch floor trim. It’s not that I am usually so keen to be attentive; it is rather that I endeavored (and continue to endeavor) to avoid having to clean up splotchy oopsies from the walls, said floors, and my own clothing. Laziness, I suppose, is why I show such determinative care with paint.
And the peppers and tomatoes got planted, too. Dozens of Solanaceae lined up in jagged rows, each plant encircled by a red wall o’ waters to give them their own tropical experience in the late spring of the Pacific Northwest. Yes, our weather is typical for the season: shorts and sunshine followed by rain and Wellies on the backside of blustery breezes. But these brave little seedlings got buried knee deep into good composted soil and snuggled into their red greenhouses. We shall see how many slugs will find their way to them. So far: two. It’s a sad frown that peers into those walls o’ waters when all that greets my eye is a green shoot sticking up. Kind of like splotching paint onto the floor, something about “thorns and thistles” pricks me.
So there I was, at the Next House, slowly painting and planting and planning my way, and I started to consider, perhaps presumptively, what our Future House might be like. No trim anywhere, I declared as I wiped clean yet another stray line. More gardens than walls, and I pondered how that might be. I could not, cannot, yet come to a firm opinion on square footage, which is just as well as we do not even own a square inch of dirt yet, but there it was and is, the evaluation and deliberation of possibilities and practicalities.
It doesn’t much matter, you know: the paint, the plants, the plans. For if in our endeavors to get those right, we run over the people in our way to get them (and they do tend to be within a “running-over” distance most of our lives), most miserable and troubled we would be, and what matter then if the floor shines and the trim glows? As the proverbs say, better a little with the fear of the Lord than great treasure and trouble therewith (15:16), and better a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith (15:17).
Ultimately, it doesn’t matter whether you or I downsize or upsize or simply stay put. Trusting in God’s sovereignty and goodness makes our homes beautiful, and prepares our hearts to be hospitable and generous with it, no matter what it looks like or how large it is. It’s the people within the walls that make cultivating a warm and inviting home worth all of the time and effort. I try to remember this as I stop to assess the next room (and the next room, and the next room…) to paint and clean. I remind myself that this is not a Chore. This is my Mission. To serve in and from within my home out of fear and love of the Lord, to love my family and my neighbors with and through it all to the glory of God. I pray this is your mission as well; we are so desperately in need of HomeMakers kept by the love of Jesus.
These are the kinds of things I ponder as I am painting. Four rooms down, thirteen more to go. You, too, probably have more work to do. Get to it, then, friends.
Blessings,
This is IT. More gardens than walls! But the same, more!, passionate, compassionate, intentional, faithful, hopeful cultivation within them.
Being a gardener and farmer has forced me to confront thoughts like, “Plants are so much easier than kids.” And, “Sheep are worse than toddlers! HA HA.”
I catch myself giving more of my time to my outside (Farm/garden) world because, even though it demands a lot, I can give it on my own terms and timeline. And there is immediate gratification. Something WILL respond. But my inside world requires me to be available, vulnerable, and present on terms I don’t dictate. And the stakes are significantly higher.
I’m trying hard to be as good of a gardener inside the walls as I am outside them. To prioritize observing and responding fearlessly and quickly to my PEOPLE, on their terms, no matter the cost.
May your harvest be full and your weeds few. Likewise on the outside 🙂