When I think “working space” the laundry room is my only thought — the space where clothes haphazardly land after a late afternoon spent at the beach with sand trailing behind damp feet. The room that is altogether functional and orderly but has a mess of it’s own. That space, the working space of our home, can be seen to visiting eyes with a dash of disgrace, on my end, because it’s the space where the unkept odds and ends of our lives are most vulnerably open, but the disgrace is holding hands with pride because what fun outings they must do as a family is obviously crossing the minds of those looking at such a space, with sand and stained clothes.
Our culture often portrays home more like a lifestyle magazine article, perfection, stillness rather than real and in constant flux. And to be frank, my husband and I do love architecture and design and clean countertops and the like. We do have beautiful artwork on our walls and a couch we do not allow our children to jump on. But the difference between a magazine article and a space that is lived-in is the why we create such a space, along with the obvious habits of cleanliness and respect for our things, which we teach our children. So yes, we desire a beautiful home but only because we were created to long for beauty, and to create it within what we have been given — a plot of land, or condo, house or rental. To create beauty is to create a place where God is seen.
But now, with three young kids in tow, meaning more items to purchase, a longer grocery list, more little socks to match, clothing that needs repair, hobbies for my two oldest, the list goes on, I began to wonder why is this home of ours so full? Not cluttered or messy, simply full. We have books spilling out of shelves, a sewing machine table with dresses needing a stitch and different colored fabric cut to be used, we have artwork made by little hands in a pile because who can part with such mastery. Our kitchen always has something rising or fermenting, milling or kneading on it’s countertops. Bedrooms are, again, overflowing with novels and Bibles, journals, dress up clothes that my children wear to believe they really are the superhero or maiden or princess of the castle where they use their own little hands and big hearts to rule and heal, to make their own made up land beautiful and functional.
As I was processing what I’m writing and while outside with my youngest, I gained a clearer understanding of even my wardrobe as “working.” I jotted down this poem in a notebook:
she toddles over to her mama,
tiny hands carry dripping muffins,
muddy handprints now on mama,
smiles greet her, she is safe and happy here within.
muddy handprints on my dress,
beauty and peace within the mess.
exploring nature’s bountiful plunder,
with peace, grit, and pure wonder.
A beautiful depiction of what I’m trying to describe can be seen in Clare Leighton’s woodblock piece from 1937 titled Woman with Flowers. Her eyes wearied yet fixed, lips pursed, neck bent and worn from a days work, arms full of the fruit of her labor. When I look at this, yes I see a woman tried and tired, but on she walks. Her arms built for her task at hand, and what beauty she rests her head upon — sweet aroma of all her hands have sown and nurtured, tended to and clipped. I see a woman radiating faithfulness with the plot of land she has been given and now her arms and basket are overflowing.
We read in Psalm 90:17, “Let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the works of our hands upon us, yes, establish the works of our hands!” This was read at our wedding with the vision of God being the One who sees our labor, our working spaces, all that our hands touch and hold and tend to. And that same God is still the only One who can lavish us with his beauty and bless us if it’s within His will to allow us to see and experience the sweet aroma of the fruit and flowers of our labor.
Every time we put a nail in the wall to hang up a painting, all the times we scrub stains out of clothes, the sweeping of the broom and our hands washing dishes, we are partaking in the creation of our future Home. We long for Home — whether we know it or not. We were created for Home, for working in the garden, for creating beauty. But now in this fallen world we create beauty out of chaos, we tidy up because somehow things tidied-down. We wipe the tears that were not actually meant to fall. Our entire house, our working spaces, are holy spaces. Living rooms and laundry rooms, bedrooms and bathrooms, hallways and doorframes, they are all part of our work as we near our future Home. A Home that actually is perfection while we are in constant flux, it’s a Home where no more tears will fall and no weeds will spring up. I believe we will still have jobs in that Home but our homes right now are preparing us for what is to come.
So we work with willing hands (Proverbs 31) with our eyes fixed on what is awaiting us, a Home create for us, not by us. I pray that every inch of my home, my working spaces, reflects the glory that is the Lords. And I pray the same for you too, may our homes mirror a piece of Eden and heaven alike, may we be faithful with the tasks set out before us, may our homes be a safe refuge for others and ourselves, and may the Lord establish all the mending and tending, cutting and sweeping.
Here are some pictures of a few current working spaces…
