Six months. It's been six months to the day since I signed my savings away to purchase a little cottage on south main street. After a strenuous closing process with back and forth banter and agreements, the dust settled and I went to the lawyer's office with a pen. I bought a house. I knew there were some things I wanted to change in the house, I knew the bathroom needed to be bigger and the kitchen needed to be, for lack of better words, removed. Let's be honest I wanted to change every square inch and I probably will in some shape or form. I planned out a budget and a design plan and in expectation brought it to my parents. Oh goodness the joys of living at home with your parents, it's like Christmas break- chaotic and fun and full of late nights. It's a holiday dream that turns into a full on nightmare when you're working an eight to five and renovating a house and training a puppy. Even now as I write these words, there are two T.V.s blaring throughout the house, a sister editing a med-school essay and a sister yet to arrive, (she'll come in around 2:30, just in time to wake the barking pup after she's peacefully asleep) I'm not making this up. Anyways, back to the plan, I brought it to my parents and after just three tries they were challenged enough to say yes. I was excited and terrified because spending a lot of money is scary and involving family is even scarier. At the beginning I imagined late nights with crews of friends and family working late into the night to paint and renovate my little cottage. I saw pizza parties and clean up days and team work and never thinking "What have I done?" Oh Shelby.
The three amigos, that would be me, dad, and mom, have worked pretty much independently from the pizza parties I dreamed of. I have four younger sisters, two of which have worked a time or two reluctantly, by force, without a smile or high five. The other two sisters are just too busy. I'm not saying this to mope or to make you, dear reader, feel bad for silly ole me. I am just reflecting on all that adulthood is. When you're not signing your savings away, you're living hours away from your closest friends and when that's not the case theirs always a mandatory "You're 22 and have no credit" fee for most anything you sign up for. God has been the ever present in this season, and goodness he is calling me to step up and fight for what he has given me. He didn't wrap it up in a pretty social media package or promise perfect hardship-free living.
If you asked me 5 years ago where I saw myself during this current season of my life I would have taken your question and returned with a full description of my plans. I'd include a whole lot of life that I've yet to live and a whole lot of life I'm glad I didn't get the chance to. That's called grace- thanks Jesus. Whatever plans I had or will have contain one common thread- expectations. I've tried convincing myself that having expectations is a sure way to fail, I've preached the message to myself daily. I've even broken my grandmother's heart talking her out of expecting much of anyone. But I have expectations. I have crazy expectations, greater than pip's wildest dreams. I yearn for, hunger for, authentic community and I expect that it is just around the bend ready to be discovered. I expected this renovation to go way differently than it has. I expected dual fuel ovens to be less than 2k. After six months of working and answering friends, "How's the house coming?" questions with "It's going," we're still climbing the list of things to do and purchase and install.
I have learned something very valuable during this time of fixer-uppering; the finished product is much more attractive than the renovation itself. It is an obvious truth really, even the biggest Joanna Gaines fans can admit the best part of the show is the end. The same is true for most anything in life, the messiness of sanctification is ugly. It's not easy to keep apologizing and the way of being a work in progress is one of humility and much needed grace. Like this old door, we're all being painted and repainted, and sanded down in one way or another. We're all being refined and refaced and repurposed and it's hard and it starts to show after a while. It's easy to think the ones we hold close are only awaiting the day we're perfect and complete- but the truth is they love us as we are now. Rough edges and all they've seen the work in progress and they didn't run. So I may not have a toilet just yet, and the wallpaper I dreamed of might be a little too pricey, but we'll keep working. Luckily Mrs.Gaines loves rough edges and she's helping me love mine too.
Shout out to Anthony for mixing this true sage door color.
