A few weeks ago, my stomach was topsy-turvy as I paced the floor nervously waiting to leave the house. What will it be like? How will it be set up? One would have thought I was getting ready to step on stage in front of millions of people. No–just getting ready to head to my first painting class.

I’ve always wanted to learn how to paint, but never did anything to pursue it. I dabbled in painting pottery at a studio, but found I got bogged down in details and spent half the time just contemplating, not knowing where to begin with my ideas.

Finally last month, I took the plunge and signed myself up for a painting class. The day arrived for the first class and I couldn’t believe my nerves as I felt like a child on their first day of kindergarten not knowing what to expect.

I survived the first class and actually had a blast! Each week I go with more confidence and a little more understanding that painting has little to do with details and more to do with values, shapes, and impressionistic viewpoints. For one who is detailed-oriented and a concrete thinker, painting stretches me. That is exactly what I wanted.

As we get older and parenting duties consume our focus, we think less and less of interests we want to pursue or we find it’s been a long time since we’ve stretched ourselves to try something new. It’s easy to get into a routine and just remain status quo. But there is so much more to life to explore than just keeping it … safe.

I didn’t know if I would be a horrible painter or not, but I didn’t care – I just wanted to try. In just a short time of painting, my eyes have already been opened to new perspectives. Angles. Composition. Depth. They are not found in the status quo.

What is it you’ve always wanted to learn? Sign yourself up and go for it!

My husband and I had a wild idea some time back that we could make our daughter a platform bed and headboard. “How hard can it be?” we said. From sample pictures found online, we drew rough plans, took measurements, bought supplies, and began.

Well, actually here’s where it gets fuzzy. Beginning for me and my husband are two different things. I take off immediately. I may not know how all the pieces fit together, but I know the measurements and I’ll get there … eventually … maybe after a few mishaps, reattaching, or ripping out of boards along the way. My husband takes off slowly. He thinks, ponders, evaluates, and builds the bed completely in his mind many times over, analyzes potential pitfalls and a variety of solutions for each. And that’s before any building starts!

My husband was making the bed and I had painting duty at the end, so the “beginning phase” took about twenty months while the novelty of sleeping on a mattress on the floor wore off for our daughter. (Thankfully she doesn’t like high beds, so the floor was a good backup.)

Then the actual building phase began swiftly–after all my husband had anticipated every potential obstacle that could happen. My painting phase took twice as long as I expected due to relearning the technique and a slow drying time due to cold weather. In the end, just shy of two years later, our daughter’s bed was complete.

When she saw it all set up in her room, she screamed. “It’s just what I wanted. I love it!” We marveled at how awesome it looked and she laid on it to give the bed a hug. Everyone was happy.

Even though we’ve done many home remodel projects together that took far less time, I learned more how to appreciate the differences between my husband and me. We compliment each other. The bed looks great and is incredibly sturdy–completely to the credit of all my husband’s pondering, analyzing, and thinking over every angle. It got completed by the gentle nudging of the go-getter in me and of course my fashionista perspective shined in the indigo denim painting.

We may not be furniture makers and may never make another bed again, but we learned a lot by stretching ourselves.

Somehow I blinked and summer disappeared. I don’t know when or how, but school is right around the corner and once again I’m trying to finish up plans for our new homeschool year.

It’s usually around this time each year when I wonder what we accomplished this summer. Then my next thought is, why do I always feel like I have to accomplish something?

Is there some manual that says parents must be productive 100% of the time? Or an 11^th commandment, “There shall be no rest for parents?” Or do only “good parents” constantly accomplish something?

No, no, and no. Yet, isn’t that how we feel sometimes? If we have any down time, all the undone chores come to mind. Or if Suzie Homemaker down the road has a spotless house, bakes, serves only homecooked healthy meals, and exercises regularly then she’s accomplishing something and we must not be.

It’s amazing how many unspoken measurements we set for ourselves … and usually they are based off of the achievements of someone else. Here’s the thing–God wired all of us differently and we were never meant to be copy cats of the next person. Plus, each family has their own set of values and priorities. So why compare ourselves to the next person? I know, easier said than done.

So I confess … my house is not clean. My floors are overdue on sweeping. Towels lay waiting to be folded. Dust bunnies have had a long overdue party on my furniture. Paperwork lies on my office floor. But instead of cleaning this last weekend I took my own advice from my last entry–we drove to Denver for a family weekend and went to the water park. What fun!

As I see it, I can clean for the rest my life. But my daughter will head off for college in just four short years.