Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Living Room Light

A couple months ago I had one of those existential crises in which everything was suddenly was too loud, too busy, too jarring, too jolting. Too much. Too much. I wanted quiet. Calm and bright, only not the Christmas kind.

I pulled everything off the walls, including the beloved Mexican Fiesta curtains, removed every single nick-nack and do-dad, and when I was done, I was done. I loved it for a little while. We lived in a blank space for at a full week, which in the reality of someone like me, is basically a millenium, or at least a century. I did what Nester calls "quieting the room", and all I can say is, I was made for quiet. I wasn't sure if I'd ever pull myself out of the quiet. Even Robert was starting to worry. "Mom, when you gonna hang something up? This is weird."

It just so happened that around the same time, our jute rug unraveled - again - and with it, my last shred of sanity.

We rolled it up that dusty, dirty, bland ol' foe in disgust and brought in this bad boy, who had been quietly waiting in the basement, never intended for the LR in the first place. We bought it months ago from Rugs USA all thanks to my pal, Kelly. I saw it on her Instagram feed, hounded her about it for weeks, then bought the same exact rug (so inexpensive! so beautiful! so everything!) and she doesn't even hate me for it.

I grabbed the curtains online from Ikea and they're all I hoped they would be: white and cheap.

Yesterday I took some pictures with my janky phone, and they are the worst. My apologies. Our good camera is in for a repair and it has us feeling all spoiled and bratty with the way we barefly think we can go on without it.

This is my real life. We aren't magazine-ready people, so you might as well know it and besides, I'll start decorating soon for Christmas so this was sort of a now-or-never situation.

Truth: I never know for sure what to do with this monstrous sectional. (Other than the obvious - lounge about, watch all the Parenthood, read all the books, eat all the salsa.) Where do you put the pillows? The throws? Heck if I know. But I watched this fun little video, and it totally helped.

{black & white pillows - Target clearance, round and floral pillows - Depot thrift store}

{Shine Your Light pillow - Dayspring, floral pillow and plaid wool throw - Depot thrift store}

It occurred to me last night that perhaps what I've done here wouldn't meet many standards of "quiet".  When it comes to pattern-mixing, MORE IS MORE.

Paint the walls white and hang white curtains, you get the illusion of peace along with the fun that comes with being a little weird in the ways of throw pillows.

Or your money back.

{finally got my claws on this book, and Calvin "bought" the model at his class store last week}

(Every time I see my home from this angle, I remember why I make my kids play outside so much.)

This feels like the right time to confess that not even four years ago, I was lamenting the state of "people" who switch out pillows and even (gasp!) curtains seasonally. I was in that distinct middle place, smack dab between being that girl and wanting so desperately to rise way above the fray.

You can see how far that got me.

I continue to stun myself with the inability to fit all the pieces of life, faith, and what I believe in the bones of my soul into a manageable paradigm. Part of me would still love to tie a quilted, ruffled carrying case around my life and the way I live it, just like it used to do with my Student NIV. I want everything to be portable, tidy, and to look so good from the outside in.

But these are the struggles of living in the tension. This is what we were promised when we were made human. This isn't my home, but it is for a while, and I keep fluffing and waiting and wondering and starting over.

Next week brings its own unique mix of questions, and I'll be right here, with all my pillows, writing them down.

For today, here's to hoping we all find the space to breathe.

*Dayspring affiliate link