Life is what you make it.
And so is your house.
I told you when I first walked into my house, I was a little disappointed that it wasn't the Queen Anne Victorian or even the Blondie and Dagwood house I'd always dreamed of having.
But that became a good thing. It challenged me to create my own dream house out of something less.
And that has made all the difference.
When I was a high school junior, we lived in a church parsonage which had belonged to the former pastor and his family who we'd known and loved for years. While their oldest daughter was a junior, she'd taken a high school home decorating class and her 'final' had been to completely redecorate the upstairs' bathroom in that parsonage. She'd painted it lavender with lime green and white accents. Her decorating teacher drove to the parsonage to grade her on her work on the bathroom. The daughter received an A.
Well, this whole house of mine has been like one long home-decorating class project. I've painted and repainted every room and studied decor books and the pictures from many, many magazines. I've discovered what I like, what I don't like, what goes together and what does not. A style of my own was forged and I've come to love these rooms.
Now? I'm thankful my dream house wasn't just handed to me. I'm glad I had to study and sweat for it and pull it from my own dreams inside my head and heart. I have a decorating courage I could have gained no other way.
Work, study, sweating by one's own brow--good, lasting things, all.
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"Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands..." ... I Thessalonians 4:11
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