Is anyone else’s home constantly untidy? I love spreadsheets, but my house can look like a tornado hit – shouldn’t it be one or the other? Organized or not?
Apparently not. My closet is beautifully color coded, but my worn clothes end up in a heap on the floor. I’m at peace when the house is clean, yet I kick off my shoes who-knows-where when I get home. I have a cubby for my phone, but I know for a fact that it’s currently in the kitchen by the dishes.
In short, I have trouble being tidy.
I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. My junior high homework planners were perfectly organized, yet whenever my best friend Melissa came over, she went straight to my bedroom and closed all my dresser drawers. We’re still friends, and she hasn’t stopped.
But there’s hope!
When I remember this tip, it cuts my tidying time in half! Thank goodness! I’ll take all the help I can get.
The first gallery wall I ever saw was at my friend Anna’s house in San Luis Obispo. I remember walking in to the living room and seeing it above the couch – such an eclectic collection of items, but somehow perfectly cohesive and lawlessly beautiful.
Anna is amazing. She is deep and introspective, and her laugh makes your soul feel lighter. Anna loves lavishly, and that love overflows into her hospitality and homemaking. She taught me about butter bells, cooks scones from scratch, and reads cookbooks cover to cover like a novel. Given how highly I esteemed her homemaking, to me this newest addition to her home was neither unexpected nor attainable.
Maybe everyone was equally inspired by Anna, maybe there was something in the wind, but gallery walls seemed to spread like wildfire. Beautiful and creative wildfire.
So, I have something to tell you probably already know: I’m not the perfect wife.
While you’re most likely not shocked to learn that piece of information – I (embarrassingly) was!
Let me back up a little bit and give some context. When Ken and I got married, we talked a lot about expectations and hopes in marriage. Ken said that what one of the things he most wanted was a peaceful home.
This didn’t come as a surprise. If you know my husband, you know that he loves peace. When we went through the Servants By Design personality survey, Harmonizer was his highest rank. Put simply, that means that any disruption in the peace really affects him and wears on him.
So – the determined taskmaster that I am – I decided to give him the most gosh-darn peaceful home he’s ever seen! I started each day with a check-list, and frantically tired to create a peaceful home. Dishes? Done! Food? Cooked! Living room? Clean! Groceries? Purchased and put away! Finances? Managed! And on and on. Day after day.
Man, I was nailing this peaceful home thing, right?
If we’re being honest, I’ve been a little nervous about this first blog post for Wildflowers and Progress. If we’re being super honest, I’m a little nervous about ALL the blog posts. And it’s a prideful, unrealistic kind of nervousness. If this blog is written to give people hope that they and their lives don’t need to be perfect (which it is), then I’ll need to write about ways that I and my life aren’t perfect (which I’m/it’s not).
But here’s the internal struggle: I don’t want you to know that I and my life aren’t perfect!
Like I said, prideful and unrealistic, right? Because the fact of the matter is that you do know that I’m not perfect, especially if you’ve spent any time with me. That’s not intended to be a self-deprecating knock, it’s just the admittance that faults are not hard to find.
And here’s another fear: I don’t want you to know that I struggle with perfectionism.