There’s a room in my home that I have repainted four times. When I first started in this bedroom it was a blank slate with white walls, cream carpet, and nondescript furnishings. But it had great potential with big windows that let in lots of light and a stunning view of the newly manicured backyard. I wanted to tap into that potential so I tackled the project with real gusto. I brought home so many paint chips I could’ve made a mosaic on the walls. I checked out fabrics, curtains, and artwork. Then I got impatient, and instead of trying to settle on a vision for that room, I just started throwing paint color on the walls. I started out with tea green, which turned out more like battleship gray. Then I decided I’d put a chair rail up and paint the bottom half a different color, perhaps darker. But wait! Maybe I could sponge the bottom half in shades of green and paint the top part of the walls a neutral shade. That idea clashed with everything that lived right outside the windows. So, instead of feeling surrounded by the out-of-doors, it felt like being trapped in a lava lamp.
I tried purple next, or periwinkle to be exact. Lovely color, but I wasn’t sure. Was this really the right color for this room? I didn’t want to think about it anymore as I was now at my wits end. The room that I thought would be the easiest in the house was turning out to be the hardest. So the room stayed painted periwinkle for quite some time, as I worked on other rooms in the house. I hoped that the periwinkle would grow on me. Then I lowered my expectations. Maybe I would just get used to it. When that didn’t work, I decided that it would be okay if I could just tolerate the color. But I couldn’t even do that. And after living with periwinkle for months, I decided to do it all again. But this time, instead of a mad dash of paint on the wall, I just sat in the room. I brought my husband in, and we sat in the room together. And finally, he looked at me and said, “Wainscoting would be nice.” And a vision opened up to me. This room could look like a country inn at the beach. I could see a creamy white wainscoting on the bottom third of the walls, and a light sky and water blue on the higher two-thirds. As I tweaked my vision, I decided to color wash the upper two-thirds of the walls in two shades of blue against a base coat of light taupe. I saw deep ocean blue linens on the bed, and artwork that brought the sea and sky inside. White wicker and white washed pine would round out the look, and give the room a casual and comfortable look.
Then I got started. I painted first, and when I was finished, the walls looked like a morning sky. I had wainscoting added, and the accessories came last. Now, that bedroom is the most popular room in the house. When folks walk into that space, they whisper.
I’ve thought a lot about this process and have come to the conclusion that all major undertakings must start with a vision. Without a vision, we end up frenetically running around, wasting time, money, and energy for end results that will not satisfy.
What is our vision for our life? Do we have one or are we madly throwing paint on the walls, hoping it will just turn out?
Now, every morning, when I open up the house to greet the brand new day, I walk into that bedroom and push back the curtains to let the light in, and I’m reminded of the importance of visualizing the final result. Where do I want to end up? What kind of mansion do I want when my earth life is through? What color will be on the walls? It all starts with a vision.
