“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”
When my husband and I bought our home nearly seven years ago, Home Depot quickly became our jam. This was BC (before children). Every Saturday, we would wake up mid-morning. I’d dress quickly in leggings dress in comfortable clothes, grab a ridiculously high calorie breakfast burrito from Arby’s and stroll into that automatic sliding door of Home Depot like we owned the place. I loved everything about these trips. We would lock hands, ignoring the blast of cool air that would hit our faces as we walked in and take our time perusing each and every aisle of interest. We didn’t have much money during this time, but it was always so much fun to browse and imagine what our home could be with a little more of this, or a new set of that.
How often do we find ourselves beating ourselves up, and truly believing that if we just had a new this, a better that, a new relationship, a bigger home, or a nicer car our lives would be, yes I’m about to say it, perfect. But what is perfect? To me, it has become a word that is ugly. Perfect represents a lifestyle of constantly trying to “be like,” rather than one that just simply relies on being present and purposeful.
Having a little boy who is infatuated with bulldozers, cars, trucks and all things dirty, evenings and weekends are generally spent outside in our yard. Usually my husband is fixing something, my son playing in the dirt, and I’m sitting in my red lounger writing, reading or, ahem, napping. Several months ago, in attempts to become more domesticated and seeing just one Pottery Barn magazine too many, I decided that I needed to step up the décor in my kitchen. Pushing aside the many projects I have set aside to attempt from countless forays on Pinterest, I decided plants would be an easy way to liven things up. So, one child and many trips to Home Depot later, the plant project began.
During one of these lazy days of off and on napping while my boys were doing their own thing, I decided to set one of my plants outside. The goal was to place it at the edge of the garage for a touch of sunlight. Fifteen minutes at the most. But mom and wife life happened and nearly an hour later I found myself dropping a half-washed dish in the sink, running outside to discover that each and every leaf was sagging in a way that made a new plant mother like consider just throwing it away and taking a loss. I mean, I didn’t know… But, being the overachiever I am, I brought the plant inside, did not blame myself for “letting” me forget, and poured some water in the soil. I closed my favorite, straw-colored tie-top drapes (yes…they are from Pottery Barn), and hoped that the seclusion from our large kitchen window and the water in the soil would save my new and slightly expensive plant.
Isn’t that all we need sometime? A little solitude and special nurturing when our faith is in question. When I finally slowed down a few hours later and saw my plant looking as beautiful as it did on the day we bought it, I immediately thought about faith. How often do we go window shopping, like mythe dates my husband and I used to take to Home Depot, conveniently leaving our faith at home in our other big purse?