Priorities

At the corner of Abiso Avenue and Arbutus stands the home of Barney Smith, artist, curator, and owner of the "Toilet Seat Museum." The operative word here should really be "stood," but I'll get to that in a moment. Mr. Smith, a retired master plumber, put his time and energy into producing art (some 1,400 pieces to be exact) which he displayed in his home's garage for any and all interested passersby to visit. He was a well-known fixture in the neighborhood and was a designated stop on the Fiesta Pooch Parade, where he always set out chairs for those observing and bowls of water for the pups.

A couple of days ago I had to take a detour of sorts from my regular route home as it was blocked off for one-way use during school hours. I turned down Argo and hung a left on Arbutus. What I saw one block down shocked me. In the place where Barney's home and garage museum had been was nothing more than a huge vacant lot. Not a thing remained but a realtor's "For Sale" sign plopped in front. How sad. I had read that Mr. Smith's collection had been sold by Barney himself a few years prior to a gentleman who owns a chain of bars and was looking for some unique items with which to decorate. At least his art lives on, but Barney's home, his trees and bushes... even his concrete sidewalk had been bulldozed.

I suppose some developer will buy the large corner lot and put up another mini mansion with all the latest and greatest home features... sub-zero fridge, marble counter tops, travertine tile, etc. In my mind and heart I'm sure that whatever takes its place will not be as sweet or as unique as the home and the man who graced it for so many decades. "There's nothing so permanent as change," is a phrase I'm coming more and more to dislike. Dislike it or not really makes no difference. Change still comes one way or another. Best to make peace with it.

The reason I tell you this is simply because of the reality check that hit hard as I passed that corner. I'm not an artist or a curator, though some could say that making a home certainly employs those skills. What I AM is someone who has immensely enjoyed making my house into a welcoming and happy little nest. It has been an ongoing process for several decades for me as well. Don't get me wrong. I am NOT an interior designer. I'm just one of those people who loves to read decorating blogs... and before that, books and magazines. Our house on Abiso was my first real canvas. It had such great potential with its high ceilings, enormous windows, and chunky moulding. I loved nothing more than to tinker and rearrange and try new looks.

I even had phases. Yep. There were the Mary Engelbreit days first with bursts of saturated color and pattern. Then came the Rachel Ashwell years of "Shabby Chic." Boy, that one was fun! Muted pastels and all things chippy became my goal. Fast forward a couple more decades and I was into white shiplap, farmhouse, and Joanna Gaines big time!! None of these pursuits were bad; I was simply "nesting."

Now that we are in this diminutive little casita, I feel like I've finally grown into myself. There is no "style" per se, just the things we love, the things we need, and the things that have meaning. As far as the "decorating" goes, I put my efforts into just a few basics. A soft neutral to unify the rooms, mirrors scattered throughout to amplify the natural light, and hardwood floors left bare to leave the line of sight unobstructed. It's simple, and sweet, and... me.

Back to that vacant lot.

I pulled up to the house after passing by Barney's place. I stepped inside and looked around. It occurred to me in a way it never had before that this "stuff," this stuff of home is just that. The furniture, the quilts, the lighting, the books are really just temporary. Even this cottage and my concrete walk... temporary. I use them to make a home that feeds our comfort and meets our needs, which is great, but ultimately these things... all these things... will belong to someone else, handed down, sold off, or bulldozed under. It gave me pause. I thought about all the time, energy, and effort I had spent in the past on "decorating." It wasn't lost time, not at all. It made our house into a home, but in truth, it wasn't really necessary.

Curtains, pillows, and paint are not the "stuff" homes are made of. Dwellings only become homes when they are "furnished" with things of permanence: faith, love, hope, encouragement, forgiveness. These are the priorities. These are the things that nurture and shape. These are the things that live beyond the four walls.

The heart of the home... what is it? Is it a room, a nook? I dare say not. Rather, the heart IS the home. If we focus our efforts on making THAT place a loving, caring environment where faith and family are prioritized, celebrated, and valued, then we have helped to build something that will last... when all else has faded from view.