Remade

I needed some space. 

But more than just personal space, although at times that was coveted as well. 

The kind of space I really needed, though, was a little space in my home that inspired me to sit down to write and create.

So with a little extra quarantine time on my hands, I decided to transform our home’s living-room-study-random-room-in-our house into my own studio space. I decided to call it a Studio because studios are the place where stories, works of art, and I’m thinking maybe even people (!?) come to life, and that definitely fit my intention. 

My original idea for the Studio was to figure out a new arrangement with the existing pieces of furniture still in place. I was confident I could find a way to squeeze in a desk somewhere between the overflowing shelves of books and my growing collection of house plants.

I could not, however, make the arrangement work, and shifting things around was only making the room feel tired and awkward. The only option left was for everything to be moved out, which would be even more work, but the only way I could really see a path forward. 

So I moved the heavy bookshelves upstairs along with every last board book, children’s book, chapter book, and pop-up book my children had once held in their chubby little hands. I sold the vintage chairs that my husband thought had a bad odor. I took down the faux wood blinds that were hiding the eight-foot windows and all the glorious natural light. Then I painted everything white, Extra White, to be exact, at least according to Sherwin Williams. 

Now we were making progress. The Extra White did not even end up being too extra. In fact, the extra actually covered up the scuffs, holes, and imperfections quite nicely. The white paint also helped the different parts of the room flow together to create a more updated, modern style. Yes, the room was finally headed in a direction that felt authentic and fresh and exciting. 

During this process, I realized there was something else happening inside of me. Something deeper that was stirring in my heart, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. So I quietly told myself to pay attention and continued working on the design of the room, hoping whatever I needed to know would come to me in time.

I knew I wanted to incorporate some retro-style pieces, and had learned about a couple in New York City that had painted a mural in their apartment during the quarantine to pass the time. I loved that they created something so bold, so deliberate, and so FUN. Before I could overthink it (too much), I decided a mural was definitely what I needed in my Studio as well. So I gathered a little courage and my wallet, headed back to the paint store, and came home with pint-size samples of all my favorite colors. 

As I committed to the first stroke of bold color on my wall later that day, I could physically feel the tension of the risk at hand. What if I couldn't deliver what I was envisioning? I mean, who am I anyway to think I could paint a giant mural on my wall? Fear and shame always seem to show up when I really care about something, or try to show up with the creativity and imagination I know God put inside me. 

But I'm learning to talk back. 

I've written down a few phrases on a slip of paper that stays in my desk drawer so I am ready when my inner critic starts yelling at my creative ideas. Here's a few of them:

I am a channel of God's creativity, and I know that there is a purpose for my work.

My dreams come from God, and God has the power to accomplish them.

I serve God by using my creativity.

I am willing to create, and let God create through me.

(-Affirmations from The Artists Way, by Julia Cameron)

Once I can move past these "discussions", the actual work is pretty fun. Using my God-given creativity makes me feel so playful and free, each stroke filling my heart with a kind of child-like wonder. It’s the same feeling I get when I’m riding bikes with my husband, wind on our faces, speeding through neighborhoods as if we were seven. It's also the feeling that comes when I’m traveling to a new city, or taking time to look up at the stars. 

It’s the same feeling that comes after you do something that makes you feel fully alive. 

As I was painting the mural, I began to understand what was stirring in me. I realized that my adult life, in many ways, had been like this room.  For years I tried to shuffle things around in my head and heart, holding onto memories that needed to be let go. Until there was finally no other option but to remove the blinds, allowing Jesus to gently expose and heal the scuffs on my heart. 

As I sit in my new Studio space writing these words, I can honestly say I'm so glad I put in the work. More importantly, however, I feel a renewed sense of purpose about life. I think sometimes in order to unveil the gifts and potential each of us has inside of us, we have to start from scratch, like in my studio, removing everything that is hindering us so the healing can begin and the beauty revealed.  

In my faith practice, this process starts with a relationship with Jesus, allowing Him to do His renovation work inside our hearts, creating something beautiful out of something that is inherently broken. He truly makes the broken beautiful.

P.S. Some singer songwriter friends of mine recorded a song over the past year that is played almost daily in our home called “Canvas and the Clay". The lyrics are so powerful, but toward the end, these particular words always stir something deep inside of me, and I believe capture the essence of this post: 

You’re making something beautiful in me

You’re making something wonderful in me

My past doesn’t scare you, Lord 

You can use it all

It feels like a second chance, It feels like being born again

If it’s not beautiful, you’re not done with me

- Songwriters: Pat Barrett, Ben Smith, Chris Tomlin

Listen to their song if you need a little soul work today, or maybe open a window and let the light in. God can make something beautiful in you, too.