Restore

I asked Him....what was it You told me? What was the promise? I'm afraid I've forgotten..... Joel 2:25....restore the years....yes. That's it. Three years ago this weekend found me pushing myself out of the place that had me frozen in fear. I didn't know what was coming. But I had to take a step forward. I picked up a can of paint and I began covering the walls. Anything to keep my mind from registering the horror I was walking through. Three years later this weekend found me painting again. And I remembered it. Another memory restored. Christmas found me searching, questioning....and stripping wall paper....trying to remove the old.

Things needed to change. I needed a change. And that wallpaper was going. I peeled back the outer layer. Another was waiting. After soaking it and waiting for it to soften, I pulled it away. The adhesive was all that was left sticking to the wall. Little by little I cleaned it. Little by little it was bare. But it was beautiful. It had potential. 

The stripping and cleaning and pulling down old left raw, exposed space. Completely imperfect. Some patches needed to be applied. Then sanded and patched again. The primer brought beautiful consistency to the space. I still had no idea what this would become. The day my dad came over to take down the cabinets and help me pick out materials. I cried. It was so much. And I really had no idea what I was doing. 

I'm the worst painter ever. Ever. And I hate paint. Hate it. It's so very messy. But I learned to patch walls and apply primer and I stayed with mostly white, cause it's safe. You can't mess it up, white. But the back wall should have color. I would tackle that last. 

A few minor set backs and re-dos found me ready this weekend for painting. This was it. I walked out to the shed to see what brushes I might have to finish and I found a whole stash of painting supplies from when we did my girls room a few years back. I saw this near little trimmer tool still in the package. Anything that would help me would be welcomed. That little tool changed everything. I trimmed out all the ceilings and baseboards in just minutes. Where had this been all my life?!? I could paint for days with this thing!! For days....

 We hung the mirrors and cabinets and my one splurge purchase for the space. 

And it was finished. 

And it was beautiful. 

And I had no idea what it would be. But I loved it. I had texted my dad at one point Friday ...I am the Worst. Painter. Ever.  His reply was simple.....Any mistakes you make are fixable..... Me, the girl who has start anxiety because what if it isn't perfect? I let that hard truth settle in. It's fixable. You aren't perfect. It won't be perfect. It will be better. It will be real and flawed and blemished and have it's own character. But it will be good. It is good. And so much better than hanging on to the old for fear of failure. I had nothing to loose but something that was broken. I had to open my hands and trust. I could do this. I was equipped to do this. I had to say no fear, I can't stay here. Thankful.