My kitchen flooded a while back. I used the inconvenience of the incidence to do some much needed updating to my house. I cleaned out every cabinet: sanded, primed, and painted every wood surface; and even retextured the walls and ceilings. It looks great now except for one thing, the cabinet doors.
My house was built in 1965 and things were assembled differently back then. The hinges that are necessary to complete the project are only available through special order now. It took half a dozen trips to the home improvement store and lots of time online to find what I needed, an angled/beveled hinge. Not a terribly expensive item, but after way overspending on the project and frustration at finding that they weren’t a readily available detail, they have yet to be purchased.
My cabinets sit open now. No doors to hide the jumble of everyday stuff that accumulates in our lives. I can’t hide things in the corner of the back cabinet and hope no one opens the door. Everything is in order. The cans of soup are stacked neatly next to seldom used pie pans in my pantryless kitchen. The small stock pans are nestled inside the larger ones next to their corresponding lids. My fiesta ware is arranged in color order on nicely lined shelves. I will admit it, I love it this way! Not because I want to impress people with my neatness (I am NOT a neat freak), but because it forces me to be transparent in my fastidiousness. It is hard to hide when your world is open. There is beauty in the simplicity of organization and orderliness.
I want to be that way with more of my life. When someone sees me, I want them to know that what they get is the real me. No hidden agendas, no ulterior motives, just the genuine, truthful, and real me. It is hard to be real in a world that loves the allure of hidden agendas. A world that thrives on the deceit that powers, seemingly, everything.
It’s amazing. I always hated having people up in my business, but once I realized the walls, doors, and barriers that I used to shut others out were more of a hindrance to me than a protective layer to insulate me, it was easier to break them down. Most people have their disorganized stash of stuff hidden from prying eyes. You can either take it out, clean the mess, and move on; or pretend it isn’t there, cover it with ineffective air fresheners, and hide it behind a door when company comes. Only one way truly takes care of the problem, the other just adds to the stench and deceit of the world.
Openness promotes vulnerability, and vulnerability can be uncomfortable, but in those moments of real, I can be the woman God wants me to be: open, honest, and uncontrived.
I am a Christian, a wife, a mom, and a part-time basket case who wants to be a full time writer.