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The Quicker Fixer-Upper

"Makes you wanna go out and buy a fixer-upper, huh?" my friend asks as we gaze out on her backyard, which is currently a Frankenstein of beautiful new flagstone, butchered old cement, and complicated-looking construction equipment.

She bought her fixer-upper a year ago, and while it's a beautiful house worthy of the effort, I can't deny that I've noticed the aggravation involved.

From picking paint colors to negotiating budgets to chasing after no-show workers, she has had a year of "not-quite-there." While I've never had to deal with the responsibilities of home renovation, I think I can understand where she's coming from.

My life is a fixer-upper.

At least I've developed the habit of seeing it that way. My friendships, my career, my personal habits . . . each aspect of my existence is its own room—a lop-sided, half-done mess of new hardwood flooring and peeling avocado wallpaper. I spend each day roaming the halls, trying to decide which room is most desperately in need of my time and resources. I spend each evening obsessing over the work I chose that day, imagining the potential that lies within all these rooms and wondering if I'll ever get there.

This is why Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Every year, without fail, the sense of gratitude that is inherent in the holiday guides me out of my front door to stand at the curb where I can see that my fixer-upper is not just a series of incomplete rooms. It's a house. My life is a house. The rooms may be imperfect, but they're all there.

As I write this, I have 48 hours before Thanksgiving begins. And yet I can already feel the involuntary thanks-giving set in. As I plan my contribution to the meal, I thank God for my physical life . . . for the opportunity to experience the world through my body and for the resources He provides to keep it healthy.

As I collaborate with my sister-in-law to dream up a complete meal, I thank God for community . . . for the exchange of support and service with friends and family. As I field text messages from my brother asking what games we should get for Thursday, I thank God for the fun He infuses into my life. There is not one part of my world that goes untouched by God's blessings.

Of course, there also is not one aspect of my life that can even begin to remotely resemble perfection. But I don't expect that to change anytime soon. Those renovations take time, which is why it's in my best interest to remember to put down the paint rollers every now and then and go out to the curb for a little perspective.

Perfection will take ages. Thank God I'm already whole.

Whole

Though I stomp and whine and moan
for my own idea of completion,
I see that You have already made me whole.

And so I praise you
for the body that sustains me
and the spirit that fills me,
for the friends that support me
and the family that guides me,
for the work that challenges me
and the play that thrills me,
for the knowledge that grounds me
and the faith that centers me.

You infuse my life with Your spirit.
Thank You for the kind of completion
only Your hands can design.

-Abi Wurdeman

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