The second weekend of April, I'm supposed to host a baby shower for a sweet, college friend of mine. Now, hosting a baby shower brings up a lot of feelings for me (especially considering I'm not at all the "shower-hosting" type of gal) but over the last few days I have been absolutely consumed with one thought: "What will these strangers think of my house?"
It's so shallow. I know. But honestly, it occupies my mind at least 23% of the day. I am constantly thinking of little things I can do to make the place more inviting. When Adam and I moved into #FlorkenFirstHome at the end of last March, we had a lot of work to do. We tore down a wall, re-did the entire kitchen, and painted nearly every room in the house. After that? Well, to be honest, we got a little burned out. So instead of really taking the time, money, and energy to finish all small jobs like buy and hang roman shades, build shelves for the wall, or finally find that one last end table we need -- we both just got lazy.
Now that I'm looking around our home though and thinking of strangers sitting in it for three hours, I'm starting to get nervous. I am nervous that our walls are too empty. I'm nervous that we have no grass in the backyard and it's practically a mud-pit. I'm nervous that someone will think we're cheap... or even tacky.
This is such an odd feeling for me because, to be honest, I love our home. Love. Love. Love.
Home is where I feel most like myself. It's where I don't have to wear a bra and where it can be 5 o'clock anytime of the day. It's where Adam and I connect, relax, and binge together. It's where our pets are growing and thriving. And one day, it's where our kids will do the same.
So why then am I suddenly worried about it? Why am I -- dare I say it -- slightly ashamed of it?
I've been thinking on that all day (you know, right after I ordered $50 worth of throw pillows for the sofa and loveseat) and I've come to the conclusion that my fear isn't that the house isn't good enough -- it's that others won't see its potential. You see, when I look at this home, I can look past the empty front porch and the rotting landscape timber flowerbeds. I can see past the deck that needs to be repainted and the blinds that need to be upgraded. What I see is a space that is limitless. I see a space that Adam and I can continue to mould to our own style and preference. I see a space that will evolve with us. I see a space that has come a long way, and while it might still have a long way to go, it will be filled with love, laughter, and joy with every step.
I think that's what I really fear -- people not seeing that potential. People not understanding that these walls hold so much more than possessions -- they hold dreams.
So, between now and April 11th, I'm going to spruce up little things that I can, but I'm going to try to keep a level head about it all. No, I probably can't get furniture for the front porch. But, it's possible I'll find an adorable welcome mat. No, I won't be able to re-seed the yard. But, it's possible that I put out a colorful potted plant or two. And you know, if people go home silently judging my home, I guess that's ok. They can silently judge my house and even me. But their silent judgment won't stop all the amazing things that are going to happen under this roof. Those things... well, they're worth waiting for.