The Before

Dwelling in Possibility

As a child, I didn't have huge dreams, impressive ambitions, or fancy prayers. I wasa simple girl who looked forward to having a family and settling down in a little whitehouse and growing something—you know, like a garden.

Compared with what other people were asking of God, I figured my request for aquiet life would be pretty easy to fill. But you know what happened?The opposite.

My husband and I have moved 734 times in our marriage. Actually, it's beenthirteen times in eighteen years of being married, but as my fellow frequent moversknow, each move can feel like ten moves. Only one house was white, and that'sbecause I paid to have it painted white. Six months later, we had to move out.

Along the way, we've lost two businesses, had a disgusting amount of debt, andbeen embarrassed by what all this did to our credit. Every time I decided to plantpeonies or hydrangeas, we moved before they bloomed. We have not settled downinto a cozy little white house. We have not really settled down at all.

I didn't think it was fair that we had to move so much, but I couldn't complain.Our kids were healthy, my husband was supportive, and it didn't seem very Jesus-yto fret over a house.

Maybe you've been there too.

I finally realized that maybe all the junk I didn't like about our lives was part of astory, a story with an ending I'd like even if it wasn't what I had imagined.

Those thirteen homes weren't a waste. They were teaching me valuable lessonsand I almost missed it. I almost gave up and believed the lie that loving the homeyou are in is reserved for a few lucky people whose circumstances happen to workout just right.

"Someday" Is Now

Have you given up on the idea that you can love your home? Do you find yourselfthinking that your next house will be the one you love? Do you put off decoratingprojects until "someday" because someday you'll have time and money to do it"right"? And yet do you long to create a beautiful home for more than beauty's sake?

I sense a restlessness among women—my neighbors, my online friends, andmost of all, myself. We desire something more than the next DIY craze or perfectlydecorated space. We want to truly love, appreciate, and use our homes. We don'twant to put a bandaid on something we hate, no matter how cute and budget-friendlythat bandaid may be. But we don't know where to start. And hey, we aresmart women; we also crave a sense of balance. Yes, we enjoy beauty and love apretty room, but we aren't willing to destroy our finances or realign our priorities toget there.

That's why this book isn't about decoratinga house. It's about creating a beautiful,meaningful home that you love. Rightwhere you are. It includes practical tips, butmore important, it presents a philosophy ofdecorating that I've found so freeing that itguides every decorating decision I make inmy own home.

Do you believe it's possible to lovewhere you are, right now, today?

I promise, I have made every home-decoratingmistake, and then some. I havespilled the gallon of discount paint on thefloor of the rental. I have spilled the quartof expensive paint on the pretty shelf. Ihave broken the oversized mirror. I haveregretted the fabric, I have measured onceand cut twice, I have painted one roomfive different colors in two years, I havemade too many nail holes, ripped the sofa,purchased the wrong size, and boughtchandeliers that were too small. I havereturned rugs and lamps and pillows. I'vebeen there, ruined that. I have lived to tell.And my house is better for it.

In our thirteen houses, I have madeevery mistake. It's been the best educationI could have asked for. If I'd never tried, myhouse would still look like it did eighteenyears ago. I'd still be giving dirty looks to aplaid hand-me-down sofa.

Greater Purposes

In September of 2010, I got a gift in themail from my friend Dee: a canvas with thenames of all of the streets where we'velived (by Red Letter Words).

I opened it and bawled. I cried the uglycry—the trembling, snotty, bloodshot-eyescry. My husband, afraid and confused, toldme I didn't have to display the canvas if itmade me sad. Sad? What? Did this looksad to him? Clearly I was happy! Seeingall the street names in one place helpedme see something that had been happeningall along. Woven through each of oursad/happy/weird transitions was a story,and I was beginning to see what the storywas about. Because with all that movingand debt and non-white-house living anddiscontentment and guilt about feeling discontentand living in rentals when I wantedto own, I still got what I was looking for: ahome.

I can sit here today in our rental houseand embrace where we live and declarethat I'm content. Because I trust that eventhough this might not be the exact homeI'd choose, God chose it for me, and it ishome.

I don't have a little white house. I havea big subdivision-style plastic house. Butthe people I love are here. I don't have agarden. But things are growing. I don't haveall the money or time I want to decorate.But I have enough to take risks, be a littlequirky, and enjoy the process.

I love sharing my lived-in home with friends, online, and now with you throughthis book. I don't open my home because it's finally done and presentable. I share itfor the same reason I wear a bikini to the pool. It's not because I think I look great init. It's because I'm finally okay that I don't. It's the same with our home. I don't shareit because it's perfect; I share it because I'm finally okay that it's not.

I can accept the fact that my house and life and body aren't perfect, because Itrust there is a greater purpose. I trust that God knows what he's doing, and I don'thave to panic and attempt to make sense of it all. I've given up trying to control ourcircumstances and instead am determined to create a home wherever we are. Andthat's made all the difference.

Thirteen Homesand Counting

From Dumps to Mansionsand Everything In-Between

I'm an expert in creating a...