A Spring of Joy

In restoration.

Six weeks ago I asked Brian if we could finally paint the walls and ceiling in the family room/den in our new home. In her book, Bless Your Heart, Tramp, Celia Rivenbank describes exactly what my life has been.

She writes:

…Painting the front door was a simple idea, but it turned into a classic Mars/Venus moment. As a Venusian, I approached the task with a plan: find a nice color, buy a quart, paint the door.

As a card-carrying Martian, my husband approached the task a little differently: find a nice color, then, en route to the register, add a $15 drop cloth, wood putty, primer, stain block, assorted nylon bristle and foam rubber brushes, several grades of sandpaper, a gallon of spackle, joint compound, a two inch roller, paint trays, a bag of shop rags in assorted colors and sizes, WD-40 (just because), a wire brush, caulk, a roller pan, saw horses (in case we needed to take the door down to paint it), a roller extension, masking tape, drill bits (also just because), and a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts from the fresh-faced church youth group selling them beside the cash register.

Now you could argue, as my husband did, that any job worth doing is worth doing right, but then I’d just have to hunt you down and kill you.

Brian also holds to the adage that any job worth doing is worth doing well, so instead of painting walls and ceiling. He tore down acoustic tile ceiling, put up drywall, installed recessed lighting & a ceiling fan, painted said ceiling, tore down one wall and drywalled it, painted the walls, tore up carpet and ceramic tile, refinished the floors and is 95% finished except for some crown molding and shoe molding and minor touch-ups. (All this while also working his “real job”.)

AND our marriage remained intact through it all, even though he sent me to Home Depot a few times armed with my iPhone. I’d walk in those double doors and try not to pass out from how big and overwhelming it is, find the most intelligent looking worker, and show them a picture Bri had emailed me. “My husband needs this,” I’d say, and then I’d follow them through rows and rows of mind-blowing fix-it stuff, take what he handed me, pay and drive home vowing to never set foot in a “hardware store on crack” again. I’m really handy to have around, can you tell?

Y’all, can I just tell you how amazed I am by my man? Some days I look at him and think, “What can’t you do?” My Brian can truly do anything he puts his mind to.

Now let’s just add home remodeling to his list.

And y’all, it’s gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.

Wanna see?

Our family room went from this…

To this.

I am blown away. I am blessed. I am amazed. I am humbled that God would give me such a man.

A little determination results in a lot of satisfaction.


He spent an hour and a half after the other two children and I went inside.


With Daddy’s help, he rolled and stacked.



I ran upstairs to watch from Audrey’s room as he jumped over and over
and placed all the pieces to his snowman.



He played with “Fred” for a while.



Then he came inside to down frothy chocolate and popcorn.

Ahhhhh!

In the beauty of motherhood.

Last week, while we were away for Bri’s Christmas party, he decided he needed to work up in DC the next day which left my plans for Thursday shattered. Instead, I spent a lovely day with yet another college friend, Kelly, whose husband works with Bri.

Can I just tell you how wonderful it was?!

I spent the day catching up, reading with (or rather being read to by) her oldest son before school, snuggling her two little boys, walking to the bus stop, eating pizza, and sharing our hearts. Kelly and I have always shared a delight in being mommies, and it was so refreshing to spend hours telling stories, laughing, encouraging, dreaming about and enjoying motherhood together.

Holding her youngest about did me in, and poor Brian had to listen to me belly-ache about how much I wanted another one on the way home. Honestly, I wasn’t prepared for that part of it. I thought I had accepted it, the ragged ache of hearing the doctor tell me “no more”. I guess the truth is, I have accepted it, but acceptance doesn’t mean absence of pain. It means bowing in submission and enjoying what I have rather than lamenting what I don’t have.

Spending time with Kelly was such a blessing, and it was so good to be with her. It only confirmed again what I have known for years…

…that motherhood is a gift. A commitment. Not a sacrifice. Sacrifice is part of that commitment, yes, but being a parent isn’t about my comfort or my ease. And if all I focus on is the sacrifice, then it becomes about me, and my perspective is skewed. Rather it’s about the choice we’ve made to have children, to love children, to raise children, to parent children. It’s a joyous commitment.

I have so many gifts in my life… one of which is friends like Kelly who share my sentiments. Who spur me on to be a better mother. Who remind me of what’s important. Who share my mommy’s heart.

Motherhood is a wonderful gift.

(So are spontaneous visits with old friends.)