Of Painting the World

Last fall I began a project. We had been given (ok, I'd begged for) fence panels that had been destined for the fire with the hope of bringing them new life. I had a vision of using one of these for a wall-sized mural of the earth. The vision of where this mural would be located and for what purpose it was to be created continued to morph, but the vision remained. I would paint a map of the world and write across it some version of John 3:16, "For God so loved the world . . ."

So last fall, I laid my hands on one of those panels and hauled it across the yard in which our children ran rampant while Mommy was distracted and leaned it haphazardly in front of one of the windows to our den. It didn't matter that it would block some light because this project would be finished soon and quickly be moved to its proper place (which I had now decided would be the barren brick wall along the front porch). And I determinedly started painting.

But then the paint didn't apply as easily as I'd hoped on those rough boards. 

Sweat started dripping; it was hot in that afternoon sun.

And then the countries started seeming disproportionate and, altogether, kind of wrong.

I decided to take a break and come back to it another day.

Days later, I was out in the yard and saw my project, leaning in front of the window, from a distance and realized, "I can tell it's the earth!" - it wasn't nearly as bad as I'd thought. Maybe I would finish it.

Someday.

Someday soon.

But not today. It's too hot. I have other things to do during nap time (that precious time in which Mommy can do things Mommy needs/wants to do). 

I'm just not ready.

And so it went. For nearly a year.

It's too hot.

It's too cold.

I'd have to change into painting clothes.

I have other things to do.

I just don't want to.

I'm just not ready.

Until today. When I sat down, still in my church clothes, ready to sink into the Sunday paper and unwind while everyone else rested. I settled into the den and for the umpteenth time since I started that danged project I mourned the darkness of the den and thought to myself (as I do nearly every other day), "I need to finish that so we can get some light in this room again."

But today was different. Today I finally thought, "This is the day."

I didn't bother changing out of my "nice" clothes, but just marched myself to the craft cabinet, grabbed some paint and a paintbrush and stepped up to the fence. 

Long white skirt flowing, I slapped green paint in all the faded white borders painted months ago. Recklessly and without abandon, I painted broad strokes over the whole earth.

And in that moment, God spoke to me.

Go paint the world with His love, and don't be afraid of getting your church clothes dirty.

Sometimes it's uncomfortable. Sometimes we have to change. Sometimes we have to give up the plans we had for ourselves. And sometimes we have to GO. Even when we don't feel "ready."

Because the world is dark and it's waiting. He didn't send His Son to save us from the fire so we could rest in comfort, adjusting ourselves to the dark, rather than moving the world to allow in His light. 

It might get messy.

It might not be as easy as we thought it might be in the rough-ness of the world, the one that sometimes just seems so wrong. 

But it's His. And it's loved. And we need to tell them.

Because that is what we have been called to do.

Until it is finished.

Of Getting Domestic

This past week my adorable niece, McKenzie, celebrated her first birthday.  In honor of such an occasion, I dusted off my sewing machine (ok, maybe it wasn't as dusty as I thought, I just remembered I made super-hero capes for Emmett and his cousin for Christmas, also), headed to the blog I had pinned to Pinterest many months ago and got to work on a project I meant to start much earlier than this.  And I probably should have because it took a little longer than I imagined - but that's mainly because sewing in a straight line (a straight-non-diagonal line) requires me to let the needle go a little slower than I'd like to admit.

But after a couple of days and a few extra hours, the bean bags were done!  Here's the final result:

I was kind of excited and maybe a little proud.  There were a lot of firsts for this project: ribbons, appliqué, bean bags!

And then, since I had the machine out anyway, I decided it was finally time for another project I'd been meaning to get to.  These lawn chairs were the first furniture we bought when we became home-owners.  We ate our frozen pizza in them the first night in our new house, before we moved any of our other furniture in, right there in our living room, with the fireplace going (because it was our first fireplace!).  Unfortunately, when the dogs met them, they went downhill fast.  And then some prego lady sat in them and the seats split right down the middle (yes, both of them, at separate times).  So, this was the sad condition of our lawn chairs:

I had actually planned to create new covers from the day the first one split - or I guess, really, before that, when the one above was left without a back when it was chewed to pieces before they were stored in the shed.  Either way, it was clearly a long time coming.  So, again, since the machine was coming out of hiding anyway, and I was really missing being able to sit in the backyard while the kids played, I pulled out the fabric I had bought last year to re-cover a garage sale find that just never happened.  I inspected the pieces left from the original chairs and was able to re-create the design for this final masterpiece:

Ain't she perty?

Here's a before and after - quite the difference!

The final pair - now Philip and I can enjoy a nice sunset conversation on our very own patio.  It's been a long time since that's happened!

I'll admit, all this domesticatin' has really gotten me in the mood and now we've gone stark crazy re-making everything.  Ok, not everything.  But we're in the process of painting some garage sale furniture I scored a couple of weeks ago and there's no telling where the remodeling craze will hit next!

1,000 Gifts:
437. Fresh paint giving new life.
438. Sitting on the patio.
439. Grass blowing in the breeze.
440. A fierce storm (when I'm cozy inside)
441. A husband praying peace over his nervous wife.