I remember many times in my childhood my mom would get a notion and a few hours later the furniture would be completely rearranged.
We had little to zero money for interior decorating, but Mom, being a professional artist, would creatively change things up to give everyone a fresh perspective.
This morning I woke up exhausted and drained. Again. Thought I might be coming down with a cold so I called my friend and cancelled our barn cleanup. Drank some tea, read the Psalms for the day and took a nap.
During my naptime, I prayed for inspiration, something, anything to get me out of this slump. After a cup of coffee and some food, inspiration struck me. It was time to reaarange my bedroom.
Our bedroom had a closet jutting out into the middle of the room which made furniture settings rather limited. It also cut out a lot of light. Philip and I had wished to knock it out for over five years, but never got around to it.
I decided that if I waited for the Christmas decorations to be completely put away, the laundry to be finished and the paperwork caught up, I might never begin. So I emptied the closet of all clothes and shoes and other odds and ends, threw everything on the bed, grabbed a hammer and a maul and got to work.
Twelve hours later, I can barely move. A hot epsom salt bath is waiting for me. I just took some ibuprofen.
And I have a new room in which to sleep. And a completely new attitude.
I yanked, banged, ripped and threw all the sheet rock and framing boards out my bedroom window onto the deck. It was very hard work. I decided that even if there were many things in my life I couldn't change, the closet wasn't one of them. Many things require patience, trust, grace and longsuffering. Tearing out a closet doesn't.
I set the Pandora Radio on Fernando Ortega, and comforting hymns with piano and guitar comforted me as I threw all my angst into very hard, messy work. Maybe others would think that sweet music about how much God loves me is strange accompaniment to grunts and heave ho's and hammering and screeching nails.
It seemed perfect to me.
The head of the bed is in the closet (what formerly was the closet.) My new writing spot is on the other side of the room. Bookshelf is flip flopped.
I feel a bit more in control of my life (well, at least my bedroom) and joy-filled. Much happier than this morning. I feel loved. Cared for.
And sore and ready for a nice hot bath.