Involuntary Simplicity: Our Lady of Perpetual Construction

Welcome to Our Lady of Perpetual Construction. Services are not being held today, but we appreciate your continued prayers.

Our Lady of Perpetual Construction - not closed for renovations.

I do love HGTV.

Our house has been under some form of construction, or reconstruction, for over eleven years. That basically means that since we moved into this house on Lake View Avenue, we have been doing some form of home improvement. Throughout those years of Saturdays, and weekends, and vacations, Pete and I have been alternately covered in paint, in both chip and drip form, insulation fibers, hardwood splinters, cement, patio sand, dirt, horsehair plaster, and sadly, and most disgustingly, actual human feces in the inexorable journey to turn this sweet little white house into our Dream Home. 

I've liked this house since I first paid attention to it. It was one of the homes in my grandmother's neighborhood. The woman who lived here before me knew my father, and raised 6 children in this house. The rooms aren't big - they are now larger than Mrs. Conley knew them to be, as Pete and I have knocked out quite a few awkward walls, strange closets, odd heating elements to make way for what would be the ultimate vision of the space. 

Still, most of the rooms would be best described as "cozy." They are not cramped, due to the incredible blessing of 8 foot ceilings. There is lovely light in every room, and there is no dearth of places to nap, sit, read, or daydream on a porch, a front yard chair, a hammock. It is about 1300 square feet and according to our favorite carpenter, as he yells out due to his power-tool induced hearing loss, we "HAVE SQUEEZED OUT EVERY OUNCE OF LIVING SPACE" out of its little corner footprint.

And so, after all this time, after the literal blood, sweat, and many tears that construction projects can bring, we are almost done. Almost. So close. After two bathrooms, a back porch, a reconstructed sill, a new heating system, new plumbing, new wiring, walls put up and walls taken down, all that we need to do is finish The Kitchen. The best part, right? The heart of the home, the stuff HGTV dreams are made of.

But we've stopped.

Just stopped.

We finished opening up that room about two years ago. We ripped up the flooring, and put up most of the dry wall, and then...

Nothing.

All we need to do is plaster, floor, and cabinets. That's it.

But. we haven't. It hasn't been just that one of us is tired. Or busy. Or that we can't do it. It has been a mutual ending. A full and complete stop.

Why? I'm not exactly sure.

Is it Money? Admittedly, lately, that's been a factor in everything for us. Pete is making do with what he can, but we are still living mostly on a teacher's salary, which although nice, really only takes us through the month ahead. I'm not complaining. The shift has been a huge inspiration for this Involuntary Simplicity thing - without exaggeration, we have really learned what is, and what isn't really important to us because of the boundaries that lack of cash has forced upon us.

One of the first of many Friday night pizzas.

Is it Lack of Motivation? We know exactly what we want, we've had it measured, we've done countless mock ups, we've picked out the finishes, and we have the appliances. So, what is it?

Maybe the question is really, why? Why do we need to do it? Yes, we spend a lot of time in there. The kitchen. Most of our evenings with friends start and end in the vast cavern of this particular room. Is it pretty? No. But it is oddly comfortable. Do I worry about spills, or stains, or broken glasses? No. I don't. I can make a pretty nice dinner in there. The pizza is available every Friday night. And there's nothing in it we don't really need to have. 

Ugh.

Maybe it's because the reason we did most of this construction, is gone? My mom. When she was living in our house, the necessities of her safety and care inspired the new heating system, the downstairs bathroom, and the porch conversion, and inadvertently caused us to redo the heating, rewire the electrical, restructure the back yard. And now, she doesn't live with us. She helped us in so many ways, and now that she is no longer living in our home, maybe our inspiration is gone. Maybe, Eunie was the Muse. The Lady in Our House of Perpetual Construction? 

Or maybe, just finally, we, as a family, are just okay.

I still love seeing it everyday.

I'm not saying I wouldn't love a shiny new kitchen with a warm, rich floor, sparkling counter-tops, and pristine cabinetry. My Pinterest feed is lousy with it. But honestly, I don't need it. In preparation for the kitchen remodel, Pete and I have created the basic structure of how the room will be set up eventually, an L-shape of lower cabinets, allowing for seating at a peninsula. We have used a large temporary unfinished modular island with an overhang, ugly chairs, and a homemade set of shelves that house electronics, our house phone, snacks. We have paired down small appliances, and eliminated extra plates, glasses, pots and pans. Our kitchen runs very lean, and I like that it only takes me minutes to clean. I've hosted countless nights in this barren room, nights filled with a lot of laughter and love. The shiny and sparkling absolutely notwithstanding. Unnecessary to make things better.

Okay, maybe for Carrera marble. It is classically beautiful.

As a matter of fact, after last Thanksgiving, we hosted this insane dinner on Friday in which our table snaked out from the dining room into the makeshift kitchen, friends elbow to elbow, yelling across the room to pass the broccoli down the Z angle towards the living room. It was, and remains to be, a hilarious night, filled with great conversations, and fun memories and  and three generations of friendship. I wouldn't trade that night for all of the Carrera marble and hardwood floors in the world.

Things aren't always easy for us in the Kitchen. I can't tell you how many pairs of socks have holes in them from the nicks and dings in the unfinished floor. Or how many fibers of pink insulation made it into our pasta sauce before we semi-closed up the walls.  

And I have fervently prayed for strength over my kitchen sink, as I took a deep breath, counted to ten, and looked out over my pretty porch, patio, and backyard garden out of the new unfinished window over the rebuilt bulkhead. I have found that in Our Lady of Perpetual Construction strength, and peace, and maybe an odd sense of that, right now as ugly as it is, it's functioning, and it's okay, and that is good with me for right now.

The "construction as metaphor" is not lost on me, trust me.