I read something once that completely changed the way I decorate my house: "Surround yourself only with those things which you find to be useful or beautiful." For ten years, I have followed that advice strictly, almost fanatically. Since I read that simple yet profound statement, it has been a source of freedom and inspiration in every decorating choice I have made, especially in the absence of the "money is no object" scenario. As a result, my house has taken on a look and feel that distinctly reflect our family's personality and priorities.
Comfy couches and chairs beckon from in front of the fireplaces. Family photos fill the walls. (After all, what would any mother consider more beautiful than pictures of her children?) Sweet-smelling candles scent the air, and miles of books line the built-in bookshelves. Brightly colored petunias peek out of the flower boxes while the porch swing and hammock practically beg to be put to work on lazy summer afternoons.
The house isn't fancy; in fact, it's old and the never-ending list of home improvement projects, including "gutting" the 1950's pink bathroom, is daunting. But we believe this house is a gift from God, a haven for our precious brood, and we nurture it with patience and persistence.
I like to shop for little "treasures" for the house, so on a recent outing to Target, I decided to peruse the summer clearance items. Unbeknownst to me, my six-year-old son Micah was browsing too, and halfway down the doormat aisle, he cried, "Mom, look at this one!" I obediently backed up the cart and glanced at the object of his affection: a school of blue fish on a tan background with the caption, "Thanks for swimming by." "That's cute," I half mumbled and ambled on. "Cute?!", he practically yelled. "Mom, I love it!" He is fascinated with nature, especially fish and birds, and his delighted, fixated gaze told me he really did adore it.
So, I tried my first "I don't want to buy that" excuse. "Let's see how much it is." Bummer. Only $7. Who knew clearance could be a bad thing? Luckily, I had another excuse poised and ready. "But, honey," I said as he clasped his hands together and pleaded with his eyes, "it doesn't match our house." Realizing he couldn't argue with that logic, he slowly unclasped his hands, stood up straight, turned toward his silly new friends and said, "But it matches me."
Needless to say, the fish found a new home, and my "useful or beautiful" logic took on new meaning. Every time I look at those blue, bloated cartoon faces under my feet, I think about what they represent: a little buzz-headed blonde, full of energy and life, who treasures God's creatures with a simple appreciation that rubs off on his sisters, dad and me. I think about the other imperfect aspects of my real-life decorating dilemmas like tiny, greasy fingerprints on the carefully painted walls, black permanent marker on the red ottoman and crayons, CD's and smelly socks strewn from one end of the house to the other. Messy? Yeah. Frustrating? At times. Beautiful? Absolutely. My house will never be featured on HGTV, that's for sure. But our zany, wonderful, noisy, unpredictable life happens here, and that will always be enough for me.
Comfy couches and chairs beckon from in front of the fireplaces. Family photos fill the walls. (After all, what would any mother consider more beautiful than pictures of her children?) Sweet-smelling candles scent the air, and miles of books line the built-in bookshelves. Brightly colored petunias peek out of the flower boxes while the porch swing and hammock practically beg to be put to work on lazy summer afternoons.
The house isn't fancy; in fact, it's old and the never-ending list of home improvement projects, including "gutting" the 1950's pink bathroom, is daunting. But we believe this house is a gift from God, a haven for our precious brood, and we nurture it with patience and persistence.
I like to shop for little "treasures" for the house, so on a recent outing to Target, I decided to peruse the summer clearance items. Unbeknownst to me, my six-year-old son Micah was browsing too, and halfway down the doormat aisle, he cried, "Mom, look at this one!" I obediently backed up the cart and glanced at the object of his affection: a school of blue fish on a tan background with the caption, "Thanks for swimming by." "That's cute," I half mumbled and ambled on. "Cute?!", he practically yelled. "Mom, I love it!" He is fascinated with nature, especially fish and birds, and his delighted, fixated gaze told me he really did adore it.
So, I tried my first "I don't want to buy that" excuse. "Let's see how much it is." Bummer. Only $7. Who knew clearance could be a bad thing? Luckily, I had another excuse poised and ready. "But, honey," I said as he clasped his hands together and pleaded with his eyes, "it doesn't match our house." Realizing he couldn't argue with that logic, he slowly unclasped his hands, stood up straight, turned toward his silly new friends and said, "But it matches me."
Needless to say, the fish found a new home, and my "useful or beautiful" logic took on new meaning. Every time I look at those blue, bloated cartoon faces under my feet, I think about what they represent: a little buzz-headed blonde, full of energy and life, who treasures God's creatures with a simple appreciation that rubs off on his sisters, dad and me. I think about the other imperfect aspects of my real-life decorating dilemmas like tiny, greasy fingerprints on the carefully painted walls, black permanent marker on the red ottoman and crayons, CD's and smelly socks strewn from one end of the house to the other. Messy? Yeah. Frustrating? At times. Beautiful? Absolutely. My house will never be featured on HGTV, that's for sure. But our zany, wonderful, noisy, unpredictable life happens here, and that will always be enough for me.
