Do you ever wonder what thought process a bird has as it scours the ground looking for just the right pieces to build its’ nest? Or if there isn’t a thought process at all, then how does it work out so perfectly every single time…?
I can’t say I have spent much time thinking about the life of a bird, but it has recently crossed my mind due to the countless hours I’ve spent decorating rooms that have repeatedly left me feeling empty.
Some places I lived in had the perfect color and warmth, with just the right amount of sunlight. Some had wide open spaces where family could gather and linger for hours. Yet others, while beautiful and filled with possibility, left me feeling detached. No matter the color, perfectly hung decor or favorite pieces of furniture, I have been left with a love-less room. It has happened so often that I have wondered if it were even possible to feel loved by a room…
It wasn’t until a few months ago, when I found a house that I wanted to call home before I was even ready to move. I was a planner. Each opportunity in the past arose from well thought out, (some obsessive thinking) about what I wanted and where I wanted it. Each time searching for just the right amount of rooms and bathrooms, with a little pizzazz in the kitchen. “What you seek, you will find.” Perhaps that was the real problem.
Yet this time, with my teaching career coming into its’ final months, and my career as a Professionl Coach taking a front seat, I had time to reflect on what I really wanted. I had time to think deeper than simple decorations, and more about creating a nest.
A nest: ‘referring to a place that is warm, safe, and comfortable.’
Seemed simple enough. And that it was! But not until I was able to define and declare just what it was I wanted. I had true declarations of what I wanted surrounding my nest. I wanted to be one with nature in a minutes notice. I wanted to be able to align myself with the canal, the trees surrounding it and the peaceful stillness that came with it. I wanted a a deck surrounded by trees, to spend warm days writing in the fresh air and for the first time ever, I wanted to be able to walk freely into town. A simple town: One that had coffee shops, restaurants and a small convenient store to grab some milk and snacks. I wanted a small community that I could call my own.
I wanted a nest, with the quiet of the country.
And then I accidentally found it, quickly wondering if I could mold pieces together on the inside to complete the nest. It needed to be something that filled all my needs now, as well as a place to grow as my family did. It did have the rooms I needed: several bedrooms, a basement and two large rooms to live in. One that I pictured snuggling up with a blanket and a movie and another where eating was the central theme, but could also act as a resting spot for hours…
Exactly two months after arriving, I completed every room, with this last one being the most important. The finishing touch, being one of the most meaningful pieces in the house. Gather.
A place where we would gather in hopes everyone would stay awhile. My children, siblings, extended family, my future grandchildren. A place where we could just be…together.
While the room’s decorations were well thought out, things were not placed for the intent of looking good. Things were strategically placed to meet the needs of warmth, safety and comfort…the open space offering room for many, with a breakfast nook for a quick seat, extending itself to the oversized table for eight, and the fireplace ruminating warmth and offering constant comfort by the oversized framed photos on the mantel. But ‘nesting’ wouldn’t stop there as it also offered a place for sweet music from my guitar. The oversized clock on the wall could not be missed, and had pictures that replaced the numbers. Pictures of the people that make me smile the most and the word time, as a small reminder to stay present in each moment.
This space was no longer a room for me. This space was my nest and signified my life…