The Mudroom Project
Just
over a year ago, my lovely Bride and I moved into a new house. It was not
merely new to us; it was new to everyone. No one had ever lived here before. No
one had slept here (not even George Washington). There wasn’t a stick of
furniture in here before our sticks arrived. It was new in every way.
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I
suppose this is going to sound crazy, but ever since the day we moved in, we’ve
been fixing it up. Initially, we spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to get
the house we wanted (well, the bank did). That wasn’t enough, of course,
because it was just an ordinary house. It didn’t look like “our house.” Our
house has certain features that make it look like…well, our house.
You know
what I mean. Your house has certain pictures hanging on the wall that no one
else’s house has. Your house has certain colors in each room that sets it apart
from every other person’s home. Your dwelling has a certain odor from the type
of food you cook or the style of potpourri you set out. All these little things
(and more) make it “your house.”
Living in a Cell
When I
went to college, I lived in a dorm. All the rooms were identical. They were
like little, cement block cells. They had two single beds, two closets, and two
study stations. Yet, you could blindfold one of us, lead us to someone’s room,
and we could tell you whose room it was because everyone personalized their
room (even if it was just the odor—it was a guys’ dorm after all). I guess it’s
just a human thing. God made us all to be at least slightly different than the
next guy or gal, and it shows.
So, back to our house… Our current project is the mudroom. Up until a few years ago, I had never even heard of a mudroom. Now, Mudrooms–R-Us. It’s a nifty little project, but I don’t quite get it. It’s located off the garage. If you walk into the mudroom through the garage, chances are good you won’t have the least bit of mud on you by the time you get there. In fact, there’s not an entrance to our home that would qualify as a muddy entrance with the possible exception of the sun porch. The sun porch, however, is way too nice to be a mudroom.
When We’re Through…
These
are things that boggle the mind. Still, the journey continues to make this
house “our home.” When we’re finished (and I use the term loosely), people
will, undoubtedly, be able to walk into this place and say, “This is definitely
Dave and Denise’s place.” Then, as an aside, they’ll probably say stuff like,
“But the mudroom should really be over here.” To each his own…
I’m not
sure why the Lord made us this way, but He can quit anytime now. Actually, the
way my back feels, I’m probably the one who should quit.
[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh
Theological Seminary and currently resides in Aldie, VA.]
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