We currently live in a house called Shalom. The house belongs to the camp where we work, hence the fact that it's named, and we live here as part of our compensation.
When Camp expressed a need for additional staff housing, I really felt called that we were supposed to be part of the solution.
So this week and weekend, we're moving our things out of the bottom floor of our house so it can be loved and used by additional staff members... so Shalom is getting some new occupants, and now I'll be blogging from a home called Upper Shalom.
We've been packing and moving furniture and finding new homes for things... and Trevor's also been very, very busy this week with some maintenance issues that have kept him working overnight. He's slept about six hours out of the past 48, and his waking hours are occupied by moving heavy furniture.
Last night, we'd moved and packed and cleaned and moved some more, and it was time to get the (heavy!) entertainment center up the stairs.
It was 9 pm. I was tired and my feet hurt. I can't imagine how Trevor was feeling, what with not sleeping at all the night before with only a 2-hour cat-nap in the afternoon... but I wasn't thinking about Trevor.
I was thinking about how much I didn't want to move that stupid entertainment center up the stairs.
Trevor got the whole thing hooked to the furniture dolly and asked, "Ready?"
"No..." I sighed.
"Okay, seriously, be a little more positive," he said, laughing at my exaggerated slump and my over-dramatic foot-dragging.
Yeah. That.
Trevor had spent the whole day working, came home and moved furniture, and in about an hour, he would go back to work again. And here I was, being the negative one in the room.
"The wisest of women builds her house, but folly with her own hands tears it down."- Proverbs 14:1
I'm an excellent complainer. I do it all the time. But I know that it changes the air in my home when I do. My complaints and sighs and grumblings suck the positivity, suck the life right out of my own home.
When I first got married... even before that- when Trevor and I started dating, I was pretty unfaze-able. Everything was fresh and exciting, and even the difficult stuff had a sense of anticipation.
I went on long, butt-breaking motorcycle trips. I stayed in a tent in 16 degree weather. Even a simple trip to the grocery store was not just a mundane task... with Trevor? Grocery shopping was magical.
Everything was an adventure.
But somewhere along the way, I stopped living in an adventure and started living in a rather boring scary movie.
The monsters that jump out at me are "will Trevor throw his back out?" and "will the entertainment center really fit through the door?" and "oh no, scratches on the floor, heaven forbid!"
I often live in a state of anxiety, rather than with an adventure attitude.
And that anxiety? It tears down my house. It gives me a negative outlook. It prevents me from being an encouragement to my husband. It leads to complaining and whining and generally being a big pain in the tush.
I don't want that. I want to speak life-giving, encouraging words. I want to look for joy in all circumstances. I want that adventure back.
I stopped whining and started (probably very ineffectually...) helping to push the heavy thing up the stairs- and started smiling, joking, and saying stuff like, "Wow, it's a lot lighter without the movies in it!"
And you know what? Not only did my own attitude improve, but I also had a lot of fun with it. Because adventures? They're fun. Complaining and being a general grouchy Gus? Not fun.
So today, if you're facing a hard thing (and really, who isn't?)- smile. Don't complain. Build up your home- your spouse, your kids, your own spirit.
Make it an adventure.
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