Easter Around My House

I've spent days playing in my new room upstairs. I've been spackling my daughter's former walls to make them look textured instead of as though they barely made it through the war in London long ago. They are plaster walls with huge holes in them because for 12 years we allowed Naomi to be as creative as she wished in her own room.

In middle school she papered her room with plastic sheets of basketball cards.

During high school and college she stapled (yes stapled) a variety of 1960's fabrics to the walls, turning them into swirls at the ceiling. I asked her to remove the nails and staples before she moved away--now there are silver dollar-sized chunks of plaster missing--and ok--a couple places with holes the size of saucers.

But as I'm spackling over every inch of these walls and making them look new again, especially after brushing on paint, I'm not regretting one minute of Naomi's creativity. Always we encouraged her to use what she had in the most colorful way possible. 

I wanted to free her artist's soul as mine had rarely been allowed to fly.

So I've been tipsy in paint fumes, even though the three sun-facing windows are opened a bit and I have two fans blowing. I've spent days upstairs with the Seavers who I have captured on six thinning old videos of Growing Pains.

Truth is, I've been so happy that my heart wakes me up every hour at night asking, "Is it time to get up yet and play in your new room?"

Some people think I must be whimpering or lonely these early days of my Empty Nest, but I am neither. Even with Tom working his usual 12-hour shifts I run out of hours before things to do--and before I run out of happiness, too.

Jesus, Himself, is helping this aging lady lift her paint brush with every stroke and we're having glad times with the opened windows and their Spring-on-the-verge air and the Seavers and the dreams of how this room will look when I'm finished. 

I walked around its walls yesterday dedicating them to Jesus and asked that good things be done for Him in this tranquil place. That I'd be reminded with every sunrise that He has risen, too.

And that is what Easter weekend looks like at my house. It looks different than at other homes, but I have learned that is ok.


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