So, there’s this weird thing about me. Unless I own something outright, I hate to alter or change its appearance. It’s like I think it’s going to be taken away from me or not work out, so I don’t invest everything I can into it. Even though I’m paying for it, and I pretty much know the thing is mine, I don’t claim ownership. I have no idea what my deal is with this warped train of thought. No clue at all.
So, I have this house. It’s a nice house in a nice neighborhood and I’ve been living in it for a good while now. Unfortunately, due to unforeseen and unfortunate circumstances totally beyond my control, I haven’t been able to renovate the way I’d like. My previous apartment had plain white walls in every room. I never thought to put colors on those walls or hang pictures or accessorize with plants or drapes or chair cushions or any other personal items anywhere in that apartment. I was abnormally afraid of damaging the walls with nails and thought plain white paint was safe and clean and tidy. After all, that house was not my dream home so what was the use in decorating? Where those ridiculous thoughts came from, I have no idea. Well, I’m glad to say, there is not one white wall in my current house. All the colors are peaceful and serene, but I still have no paintings or wall art on my walls.
Then yesterday, all of a sudden, out the blue, it hit me right between my eyes. My bare walls were cold and lifeless, screaming for love. They longed to be touched and stroked and brought to life with bright wall decor that screamed I actually survived and overcame and now am thriving in and living in my own house on my own terms. Suddenly, I had the dire need to turn my house into a home.
I wasn’t sure I would be able to afford to stay here given the unforeseen and unfortunate circumstances that showed up on my doorstep. Instead of believing, I doubted. Instead of trusting I held back, not having faith and not decorating and claiming my space as mine. By not bringing life into my house through color and photographs, and continually referring to my abode as a house, and not a home, I was unknowingly trapped by my own hesitation in claiming success and elevation from those circumstances that plagued me for years. I was not honoring what He did for me, how He removed those unwanted factors and people near and dear and left peace behind. I was not appreciating and praising the fact that He cleaned out my house and made it mine . . made it my home and not a house. He allowed me to start from scratch and have a do-over without having my home taken from me.
You see, it hit me like a ton of bricks that I’m worth owning nice things and living amongst pretty things and having things that work and not being a victim of those unforeseen and unfortunate circumstances. So I’ve decided, and not for the first time in my life, to rise above those circumstances and my own self-limiting thoughts . . . again. I’ve decided that though I’ve had some things happen, and I’ve been through some things, I’m worth more than how I’d been living. I’m worth more than what I’d put up with. I’m worth more than my own lowly perception of me. I’ve decided to paint my surroundings with brightness and happiness and color and joy. I’ve decided to put art up on my walls and fix my kitchen sink and paint my home’s exterior in a happy, joyous color. I’ve decided to own my home.
It’s time to show Him how much I revel in Him. I’m going to go out on a limb and trust Him even more than I have before. Even more than I thought I was. I’ve decided to inhale my blessings and not question and doubt anymore, but give thanks for all He’s done and all He’s seen me through and for sticking by me even when He was not my most favorite guy. He gave me a home and allowed me to keep it. He removed the undesirables and left peace behind. He’s brightened me up so now it’s time to brighten up my walls with some decor. Wall decor, my two new most favorite words.
