My kitchen is nothing to write home about. It was added onto the house in 1950 and, well, it’s still from 1950. It’s maybe a little better than when we moved in when it was all dark wood and dark paint on the walls. Andrew and I spent days repainting the doors and trim of the cabinets white so it would brighten up the room. I painted the walls a cheerful yellow, because, well, I love yellow. Andrew added an island from a freebie cabinet and counter. It doesn’t match at all.
Then there was that time the ceiling was leaking. That was fun. The washer pipe fitting on the second floor had been leaking probably since it was installed and I walked into the kitchen one day to a puddle on the floor and drips coming from the ceiling. Andrew poked a hole in the soggy ceiling and water just poured and poured into the kitchen. So, we tore the ceiling out and put up bead board. It doesn’t really look pretty.
It works. In reality, we’ve wanted to remodel that kitchen since we moved in. It’s kind of becoming a need more than a want with as decrepit as it’s getting. Someday. For now, I’m glad my friends don’t care how mismatched and DIY it looks. They still come over and talk!
A few days ago a friend stopped by to pick something up. It was a quick grab and go that turned into an hour and a half! We didn’t mean to. Her kids, I’m sure, were wondering where mom had gone off to. Mine were happy I was distracted and they didn’t have to do school for a little while. But, there we were, standing in the kitchen for an hour and a half.
Honestly, I don’t remember everything we talked about. We jumped subjects, came back around to earlier conversations, didn’t really solve any world problems, and just chatted.
But, really, the conversation itself didn’t matter as much as the relationship. We could just chat about anything and everything, building each other up along the way. I don’t even remember the specific compliment now that she gave me, but I do remember it bolstering me and cheering me for the rest of the day. I hope I did the same for her.
After she left, I thought about how many times I’ve stood in my kitchen talking and laughing and just enjoying company. I love to do life with others. I love to build them up and encourage them when I can. I love when they do that for me. And, so often, it happens in my kitchen.
I would encourage you, if you struggle like I do with perfectionism, to just let it go. Let go of the fact that your kitchen isn’t perfect, or your house isn’t clean, or your decorations aren’t just right. Nobody cares as much as you do. I, for one, would rather spend time with you than not and it doesn’t matter to me if your house is Parade of Homes worthy or not. Mine certainly isn’t and never will be!
By the time my kids move out and I could have nice things, I’ll have grandchildren. And, believe me, I’d rather have those wonderful people around me than Pottery Barn décor!
As Christmas approaches, let it go! Let go the pressure and just enjoy the people God has put in your life.