I've skated through life for quite awhile avoiding introspection at all costs, fearing I'll find something I need to change. However, this tiny house journey has forced me to look inward. Hopefully by cracking open the doors, I can challenge my status quo and see myself honestly, yet unashamedly. By sharing this part of the process, I hope to keep myself accountable and be on the lookout for lessons to learn.
It's true. The floorplan Option B hits more of our wishlist items. (Read Part 2 to see why we didn't choose Option B.) It has the staircase, the larger fridge, the pass-through window/bar, and even a generous bathroom. We thought we knew what we wanted. But it wasn't until we were faced with a completely different concept that our eyes were opened to what we really needed (or didn't need, in this case). For example, I was so stuck on the novelty of the pass-through window/bar thing. But now I love the idea of having giant windows and open space to walk through instead, doubling the livable space. This was such a good reminder for me; it's kind of like choosing a husband.
Oh yes, I had a wishlist for my future husband too. An ideal resume of sorts. Did he meet all my criteria? Not most of them. Sorry honey! But all the time, I am amazed by all the ways in which our skills, personality traits, and experiences truly complement each other. Is he the graphic designer/surfer/worship leader I conjured up in high school? Not quite. But he's so much more, and much better suited for me. He gravitates towards the bigger picture when I get caught in the details. He draws upon his incredible imagination when I get stuck by the rules. He loves through service. He worships with his character. We meet in the middle with our easy going personalities and love for adventure and exploration. Once so focused on my "list" of expectations, my high school and college self couldn't have foreseen those puzzle pieces fitting together—especially the significant and lasting ones. Letting go of my original expectations for our floorplan was tough, but vital to making way for a more fitting plan.
In putting together our own home, I also often fixate on an idea or project without pausing to really weigh its full impact. I'll procure all the supplies for a project and spend hours, only to fail miserably, or decide it was completely unnecessary. Pinterest fail, anyone? Bad Superbowl commercials are the same way. Large companies pay millions of dollars for 30 seconds of airtime and countless hours are spent on that one idea. Somewhere along the line a group of really smart and talented people sat in a conference room and agreed that this was THE idea. And yet, so many just flop. We end up with a creepy and disturbing puppy-monkey-baby and have no idea what product was actually being advertised.
How does this even happen? Perhaps no one took the time to take a step back and see the idea objectively. What potential could we reach if we just humbled ourselves and asked for help or feedback? I'm often guilty of this, usually afraid that if I ask for help along the way, then people will know I couldn't do it alone. That my ideas weren't good enough, I wasn't talented enough, or I didn't work hard enough first on my own.
How silly is that? Or even prideful? I think God knows I struggle with this. I often think my way is best and find myself praying to make sure God knows what would be the most convenient for everyone. (Don't do this. It doesn't work.) Thankfully, he has subtle ways of reminding me that I actually do not know best, and that his ways are always greater.
"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." Ephesians 3:20-21
Today, I am thankful for reminders both big and small to get out of the way. Most of the time, I just need to shut up and focus on listening. I need to admit when I need help. Only then, can I leave room for God to do his good work, yielding more peace and joy than I could ever imagine.
In choosing floorplan Option A instead, sure, we had to let go of some really cool ideas. We had to stop and really evaluate each piece to determine if it was really necessary or suited for our purposes. It's hard to let go of ideas, stuff, relationships, and especially expectations. But I'm pretty sure it's worth it. I mean, my husband choice sure was! Happy belated Valentine's Day, babe. I think this tiny house is going to be pretty cool.