An Artist's Home

I think it is safe to say that no one has ever left my house, and turned longingly to her friend saying, "Wow, her taste in decorating and design is impeccable."

I think it is likely that visitors leave shaking their heads and wondering how an artist, a lover of beauty and creativity could have a home so.... well, not that. I had one friend who for years would drag me to the Open Designer Home shows, and point out all the lovely details that someone talented, like an ARTIST, could do if she wanted. It is not that I didn't get the hint. I agreed with her. An artist probably could do that if they were so inclined.

It is not that I don't want a beautiful aesthetically pleasing space.... it is that it is so expensive and time consuming to create one. There are so many other more admirable ways to spend time and money. Our friend and missionary, Brian Duggan spends his this week in Haiti, bringing diapers and water to orphaned babies lined up by crumbling walls. Our animal heroes Nicole and Gene subsist on peanut butter so they have money for the horses and dogs they have rescued (though she manages to have a beautiful home that is somehow always clean despite being filled with the dogs she works with.) But it is not even just the money issue. I just don't seem to have a knack at home decorating.

And as if my natural inability were not glaring enough, I now have given in to the ever growing set for our Destination Imagination Team Challenge, and decided for the next 4 months, my living room will be decorated by monstrous creations 7 feet high made of PVC, cardboard, cloth, and foam. Giant rather frightening puppets stare at me with their beady eyes as I creep out of the bedroom. I have removed all the furniture from the great room so the kids have room to stage their set, and then slide it into place. (Not that the furniture is highly prized, most are items I snagged from a garage sale or better yet, dumped at roadside....) During the days when they are not here practicing, the mammoth set is moved into the vacant college boys' room. During those days, the great room is a towering, silent cavern, echoing every toe click. Huge empty floor stretches under the formal chandelier, crying out to visitors, "Can you believe what a decorating schmuck must live here to think this is attractive?"

My walls are covered with my artwork, so the now empty room, when the giant puppets aren't smiling their spooky smile at me, does have the feel of an art gallery. That is not normally the look homeowners are going for, but maybe I should consider charging admission. So, I sit here in my empty cave, and avoid glancing at the open door of the boys' room where one puppet is leering at me. I see the little banana car Anders painted with painstaking care for the AWANA Grand Prix sitting on a nearby shelf. I see hundreds of little clay animals that Asherel has created over the years. I see the suspension bridge made of popsicle sticks the boys made years ago in our first fumbling homeschool years on top of the tall bookcase, beside the pink candles Matt made by pouring wax over icecubes in a tin can. I look around my home and I don't see Martha Stewart applauding, but I hear the echoes of children's laughter.

Numbers 24: 4-6

⁴ the oracle of one who hears the words of God,
who sees a vision from the Almighty, ^a]">[a]
who falls prostrate, and whose eyes are opened:

⁵ "How beautiful are your tents, O Jacob,
your dwelling places, O Israel!

⁶ "Like valleys they spread out,
like gardens beside a river,
like aloes planted by the LORD,
like cedars beside the waters.