A Desk of One’s Own
It is a non-move summer, so for this homeschooling military mom of many (that is an unnecessary mouthful), my goal is possibly more blazing my way through an extensive To Do List than it is resting and recovering. Although, to be honest, that also sounds like my move summers… Okay, fine: my modus operandi is to plan to get a gazillion things done most days, and then I’m vaguely annoyed when I don’t manage to pull off a gazillion and one.
Regardless, one of the things I had to do this summer was deal with the leftover broken furniture from our last move. Why had it been sitting in my basement for almost a full year, you ask? Well, because the insurance company assured us that since they paid for the broken furniture, it was therefore theirs and they would be sending someone by to pick it up. Naturally, they did not.
Eleven months later, our bulk trash guys had a truly fulfilling day at work.
I did, however, manage to salvage a few of the items and reuse them. Our broken bookshelf shelves (that’s not a typo) became shoe storage space in my ongoing attempt to quell the tsunami of shoes persistently threatening to flood my home. Then the teenager mounted a piece of trim for a lego display shelf for his brothers—ingenuity! And I took the old desk top and turned it into—wait for it!!!—a desk. Shocker.
In my mind, I was (re?)making a desk for a few different reasons. First, because the Man used to use our desk to knock out work at home, and I thought that might be helpful again here. Second, because I needed a place where my miniature avocado tree’s leaves would stop getting stuck in the window blinds. And third, because I have an ongoing war with myself regarding my inability to keep my succulents from getting excessively leggy. Priorities.
Please note, however, that it didn’t cross my mind that the desk might be for me.
Discerning reader, you guessed it: I have been sitting at this desk for at least 60% of every day since I got it up. And it’s been fabulous.
Because of the desk, I’ve been writing more regularly. (Possibly that’s also because I’m not teaching a full day of school, but I’m crediting the desk.)
Because of the desk, I have a loose outline for an old writing project in the works so maybe I can get back to it before we start school again in five weeks (just because this summer isn’t a move summer doesn’t mean next summer isn’t).
Because of the desk, I have the printer set up close enough to the router so that it actually prints and I no longer have to dramatically groan to the Man about how hard it is to homeschool five kids without a working printer (yes, I’m blonde, why do you ask?).
Because of the desk, I’ve gotten in a lot of fights with Blythe who thinks that the desk and its accompanying chair are hers and hers alone.
Because of the desk, I’m now spending a lot more time in what is arguably the sunniest room in the house, which makes me really happy—and not just because I also added a free and freshly spray painted green bookshelf to said room.
Incidentally, my sister once referred to this room as the place where shoes went to die, which I thought was unfair as it was, frankly, not the only place in my house where you couldn’t see the floor for the shoes.
The house is in a period of reform now.
Anyway, guess who hasn’t used the desk even once? That’s right: the Man. But somehow he still loves me. Also, my succulent and the avocado tree are very happy and cooperative right now, which makes up for all the additional drama with Blythe (who is currently sitting with her butt covering the caps lock key).
Why am I telling you all this? Because sometimes we need to celebrate a little bit of happiness together. And sometimes we need the encouragement to build the metaphorical desk.
Please note the extra space for additional books as I’m about to go on a book buying spree and blame it on curriculum ordering…
Three years ago, I wrote an instagram post about turning my chair in the mornings to watch the sunrise. It was a tiny change that enabled me to start the day with joy. Building the desk has been like that. Sure, it cost a little more money (for table legs) and time (to screw said table legs on) than simply turning a chair to face the window, but it’s paid dividends in helping me feel present and productive and capable. And I could’ve done it a year ago.
I can now sit at my desk and watch the sunrise filtering through the magnolia leaves in the morning and know that even if I only have a few weeks at this desk before the chaos of our school year descends again (and my children abscond with my computer for their writing assignments), I can use that time well.
And I can rejoice in the gifts given: time to write and people to write for, a magnolia tree, a whittled down inbox, a gazillion and one things to do for the family I love, a summer that doesn’t involve moving boxes, a selfish beast of a cat, book stacks… and a desk.
Three years ago I turned a chair to face the sunrise. This summer I built a desk. Tiny, inconsequential changes.
As is often the case, I couldn’t have imagined the repercussions.
So for today: is there a chair you need to turn? Is there a desk you need to build? Is there a way you can welcome joy and celebration into your home? Is there a way you can make even a tiny bit more space for the gifts God has already given?
You may be surprised to find that the necessary ingredients for growth are already taking up space in what you thought was a pile of broken trash.
