Monday, January 25, 2010

A work of art.

His raspy, softspoken voice quivered with the sort of wisdom only gained through the ages - from years of hard work and experience. Over the pulpit he stood, slightly wobbly, and he spoke in a gentle, old tone. It was a typical Sunday a few weeks ago, and I sat listening - free from the turmoil of managing my rambunctious children. I was visiting my parent's congregation and my sisters were more than delighted to have an excuse to wander the halls with them during Sacrament meeting.
I can't even recall what the specific message was, because I was so struck by the following words that came from his genuine delivery. He paused for a moment, and began to sweetly speak of his beloved, elderly wife in the congregation, the girl who had spent multiple decades at his side. His words were soft, and his eyes glanced down in humility but his voice was filled with pride as he said,

"You should really see our house, the sort of place my wife has created. Well, you see, it really is a masterpiece....even the food she cooks is so beautiful I feel guilty eating it! Our home is a little slice of heaven on earth, a sanctuary, thanks to her."

The tears instantly started welling in my eyes as I heard this loving tribute to his lady. I try not to cry in church, the awkwardness of it all - especially with my teenage siblings surrounding to make fun of me at the first site of any emotion. But I couldn't help myself.

That word. Masterpiece. How could any woman not die in satisfaction knowing that her home, her creativity, her years of sacrifice and efforts had all culminated into that single description of the highest achievement: she had created a masterpiece! Something unique and beautiful, a place I imagine was filled with the type of love only she knew how to give, and service and sacrifice only she was capable of and willing to make. Just sign that final signature there, in the corner of your masterful work of life...and die a happy woman. You've done it sista.

And he noticed.

Just wrap me up in a blanket and rock me to sleep,
I wanna sob like a baby at the beauty of it all!

I was reminded of one of my Mom's sayings,

"Homemaking is a work of art."

I was also reminded me of one of my Professors, who bordered on one of the most intellectually snobbish people around, who once commented in class, "My wife is a smart woman. She holds two advanced degrees."

I'm all for forwarding your education, gaining every possible bit of knowledge this world has to offer, but the way he said it was so....exclusionary. I wanted to scream, "Oh yeah?!! Well I hold two advance degrees MYSELF you big pompous windbag...
their names are Lily and London...
and I'm 'smart' too."

No matter what further degrees I pursue, this work of art - creating my home, our slice of heaven - will no doubt be the hardest. And the most worth it. Tyler and I were lucky to grow up with our own mothers, each an amazing artist in her own right. Now it's my turn, time for

My masterpiece.

My degrees thus far, during today's cozy, rainy-day naptime:

And relatively unrelated (unless you consider this post strictly as a literal interpretation of your home as art via home design, which I don't recommend. Tyler can attest to the fact that the curtains really don't matter and it's impossible for dinner to taste that good when I'm behaving like a type A, perfectionist beast.), these are the candlesticks I found at a thrift shop that are currently rocking my world. Mmm, love them. Why would someone give these away, I ask you?!!

PS. I just re-read this post.
A little topsy turvy.
It started out all sentimental and then slowly slid its way to stupid.

Sorry about that.


Amy MINOR said...

I think the way you use paragraphs is very effective, giving "And he noticed" some space. I also like your alliteration: "It started out all sentimental and then slowly slid its way to stupid."

Amy MINOR said...

Oh and P.S. If you want to stay relatively private w. your blog stay on blogspot. I've noticed wordpress comes up way more easily in search. Which is good AND BAD.

Joan said...

Bleh. Who needs a well constructed blog post with perfect flow and a clean conclusion!? B-O-R-I-N-G.
Honest writing. That, my dear, is something you have mastered as well as creating a lovely home for your growing family. (btw: you went no where near "stupid"--perhaps a tangent here or there...but FAR from stupid.)
I would like to add that the masterpiece of which the dear old man spoke about could also reference the Spirit in the home as well (although I have no idea if he did--just my thoughts). A feeling of warmth and love that only a mother's touch can create. I know you are good at too...b/c I know how passionate you are about your children and your good husband. Love surely abounds in your stylish, cozy home :)

Daron and Jamee said...

What a wonderful compliment he gave his wife.
What a darling man to notice.
And you do have a masterpeice of your own in your home. It's beautiful and, like Joan said, filled with love.


Cindy Martinez said...

Snif, snif, snif.....
Tears are streaming down my face.
I sit here wondering..... is it to late for me to atain for a bit more perfection in this area? I want to be just like her..... just like you....
I think as moms we always wonder... Did I teach my kids everything they need for this life? Everything they need for eternity?
Thanks for sharing....
You are truly AMAZING and your posts continue to inspire me even at the age of "fourty something"!

Cindy Martinez said...

PS -- What an AMAZING play room!!! Can I come over and play??? :-)