let gratitude grow

A few months ago we decided to sell our home. Was this a good idea with a one year old, second baby on the way, and new office opening soon? Probably not. Fully knowing how busy our schedules were, we listed our house.

Exactly one week later, after all the decluttering, boxing up of our personal items, yard work, and (endless) pressure washing, we decided not to sell our home. Months later, I receive daily spam texts, “Are you still interested in selling your home?” Ugh, spam texts.

After a few tearful, late evening conversations, RJ and I decided it wasn't a good time for us to uproot our lives and family with a big move. We managed to make the best decision we could at the time. We decided to hold off. All this was incredibly disappointing for our family as we'd been looking forward to moving for a while. Between the tears, the packing, and the stress, we did our best to get past our sadness and disappointment and focus on being content where our feet are currently planted.

Since our decision not to move, we've had many conversations about contentment and gratitude. The reason? There are many things about our current house that, to put it nicely, we don't love. There are even things we really don't love about our house. Maybe you relate?

For five years, we've been in the process of growing our company and house projects have gone on the back burner. To this day, we've only bought one piece of furniture for our house – our bed. Everything else is hand-me-downs or decades old. Our house has received the least of our love and energy.

The achiever “me” that likes to move and shake and go-go-go has been ready to move since about a year after buying our house. My thought: I'm ready to improve things! It's time for new furniture and putting intentional effort into the space where we live and breathe and gather and rest. What I continue to learn from RJ is that contentment isn't found in moving, going, doing, improving. In the boring slowness of daily life, I often feel panicky, stuck, and behind.

I've had to learn that slow growth and staying put are also growth.

Before RJ and I married, I'd lived in over 15 places in a matter of eight years. The longest I'd lived anywhere as an adult was 1.5 years. Tangled in the fast-paced, transient life stage of young adulthood – a stage of life I believe we all journey through – we never feel settled. Everything I owned was ready to be thrown-in-the-back-of-the-car at a moment's notice.

I'm in my 30s now, and my days include sitting on the same couch with my daughter that I've had since college. Our chairs were from my parent's old house and the rest of our furniture from my sister-in-law. We've inherited an old wooden boat that sits in our garage as a storage container. I wash the same Target dishes over and over and over. I wear and wash and fold the same clothes for me, my girls, and RJ. We have ugly blinds, a very messy office, and dirty, 1990s floors. We look daily at the popcorn ceilings and at the too-small kitchen table. We do not look anything like an Instagram or Pinterest home. This includes leftovers (in plastic, mismatched containers) in the fridge, laundry drying on racks in the hallway (dryer's currently broken), clothes and toys and shoes strewn about. People live here. We live here.

We do life here.

Our home might not be put together. There are definitely many things I don't love about it. But home is home. We have a home. We are together.

There was a time I dreamed I had a place to call home (that wasn't a small basement bedroom with no windows that I rented for $250/month). There was also a time when I prayed to feel safe in my home. I thank God I now feel safe in my home.

After our decision not to move, RJ and I got serious about practicing contentment and gratitude for our home. Instead of fostering a constant longing to move or improve, we decided, “What if we choose to intentionally love our home, despite the imperfections?"

We also deleted Zillow.

At best, we will choose to be grateful for our home. We will not complain about it. We don't need better or more. What we need is gratitude for all that we have.

Tonight we swam in our pool as a family. As RJ went inside to make dinner, I hung around outside with the girls and picked the (ever present) weeds in our mulch beds. I used to complain about the weeds in the yard. They distracted me from relaxing by the pool – all I saw was work that needed to be done. Before we planned to sell, we hired a handyman to replace our mulch and lay black liner in our garden beds as an attempt to stop the weeds. What do you know, they still find a way through.

Each time I'm outside, I pull the weeds one by one and thank God for our home. Pull a weed. “Thank you God.” Pull another. “Thank you God.” It's a mini-revolt against discontentment and my longing for different/more/better/bigger. It's a daring act of gratitude for the present and for “enough” – pulling weeds.

Like weeds, your thoughts of envy, frustration, and discontentment will take over your mind if you don't pick them out and replace them with gratitude. Gratitude is the route to satisfaction and contentment.

We don't need more or better or bigger. We don't need Pinterest homes and Instagram lives. The good life is here.

But only if we're willing to pull the weeds and trust that we have all we need, now.

Thanks for reading! Want more writings and resources?

Here are a few blog posts you might enjoy:

001. Listen to this podcast interview if you want to get organized (with your time + priorities)

002. Read me if you're struggling with anxiety

003. Read me when you’re feeling rushed or hurried

004. Join the weekly newsletter for resources, essays, and encouragement.

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