I recently completed a special transformation project on the
cabinet pictured here. When I moved from California to the Carolinas, I was
intentional about bringing it with me. It had once lived on my patio,
weathering years of sunshine and storms alike. She had taken quite a beating
and, by all accounts, should have been left on the curb for pick-up.
But I saw something far more beautiful.
This cabinet held rich memories of countless hours spent on
my patio, reading, praying, meditating, sharing family time with my son, and
enjoying fellowship with friends and loved ones. In that space, I navigated
painful setbacks, worked through difficult life challenges, and celebrated
precious milestones and hard-won successes.
My patio was my sanctuary, my sacred real estate. From the
large white myrtle tree (see my previous post, My
Giving Tree), to the flowers, gorgeous oversized clay pots, and peaceful
ambiance, it was a place that nourished my soul. The cabinet became the one
tangible piece, a cherished memento of a space that so beautifully occupied my
life. I felt as if each grain of wood held one of my stories and we were far
from writing the final chapter.
I started this restoration over a year ago with a friend. I
was excited about the idea of transforming her, and having gone through several
transformations of my own, I couldn’t help but see the parallels. My friend and
I discussed how best to salvage the cabinet. We searched for the perfect color,
gathered the necessary tools, and decided to replace the top with a mosaic of
tiles. We carefully sanded and smoothed the weathered exterior, repaired the
broken pieces, and cloaked her in an exquisite jeweled-blue coat of paint. I
felt such joy knowing we were bringing her—and in a way, our own—story back to
life.
Then the project stopped. For four months, she sat
untouched.
When we resumed, we created the tiled top, carefully sealed
each piece, and once again, progress came to a halt. Eleven months passed. She
remained in my garage, unfinished, like someone who had not yet been fully
dressed. I felt frustrated and saddened that this transformation, one so deeply
meaningful to me, had been abandoned. All the planning, care, hard work, time,
resources, and excitement had simply… stopped.
The starting, stopping, pulling away, and fading interest in
something so special made me wonder if it was an analogy for other things in my
life, including my friendship with the person who began this journey with me.
As the summer months approached, I made a decision. I would finish what I started and return this cabinet to her rightful place on my patio.
I washed away the dust, dressed her in yet another fresh
coat of paint, cut the glass for the side doors, attached the hardware, and
crowned her with the mosaic top. Then came the moment I moved her to her new
and rightful home on the patio. It felt as though the bridge from my former
sanctuary was finally in place. She seemed to open her eyes after a long
two-year slumber, alive again, and more beautiful than ever.
As I sit and reflect on the lessons learned through this
project, I am humbled. I’m struck by the parallels between what was once a
beat-up piece of furniture, destined for the trash heap, and the transformation
that made it a treasured masterpiece—and how we, too, can feel beaten down,
abandoned, and ready to give up, only to be renewed into something more
beautiful than before.
For transformation to happen, we must first allow change to
take place. We must be willing to be fully deconstructed before we can be
reconstructed. For me, I believe in a God who daily renews me. Despite the “not
so pretty” in my life, He chooses to see beauty in the ashes and what I can
become. He doesn’t toss me to the curb, but like sandpaper to wood, He refines
me, mends the broken pieces, restores my soul, and brings me to a place far
more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.
It’s ironic that while I was painstakingly transforming the
cabinet, God was unconditionally and lovingly transforming me—preparing me for
this new and incredible season in my life.
I look forward to the hours I’ll spend on my patio with this
newly restored piece from my past, as I move toward and embrace the future me.
In some ways, we’ve breathed new life into each other. We’ve both gone beyond
our original form, emerging from the chrysalis anew. Here’s to new discoveries,
continued growth, and a fresh library of stories and experiences yet to be
written.