Fresh paint

Photo by David Pisnoy on Unsplash

We’ve moved back into our house after more than two weeks. The fresh paint smell lingers. There is still work to be done. But the ‘great room’ (the place of cooking, eating, and reclining!) is light and airy and very different from what it was. It is what I hoped for. And, it is very different. It doesn’t feel like mine, perhaps because I’ve not filled the empty space yet. 
Gazing at the transformed room, it’s almost like my history was wiped out. What I chose at one time and thoroughly enjoyed is no more. It took me a long time to let go and approach this adventure because it required a lot of work…emptying the cupboards and shelves of…everything! The woodwork was sanded to smooth out imperfections accumulated over years of use and a base coat applied to support a fresh new look. The dust from what was leaves a residue that will require time and repeated cleaning to fully deal with it. 

Is this what it’s like to deconstruct my thinking, my habits, identity, things I’ve ‘known’ to be true? I have to be willing to do the hard work of  ‘emptying my shelves’ of everything that’s made me comfortable. Let my very imperfect understanding of history, of theology, of systems and worn out traditions be sanded down and primed for more spaciousness. And never assume my work is done because the dust of what was lingers in the air. 
The space feels strange. I am simultaneously filled with discomfort and anticipation. Discomfort because what I’ve known, what was familiar, has a whole different ambiance. Anticipation because now I get to faithfully arrange it with the hope of a fresh perspective where I can offer hospitality for friends old and new. I can resist the new vibe or take comfort in that I was courageous (!) to do it and now welcome it in all its spaciousness. 

in this together…