Making Do versus Making Home…Oh! And Why Things Never Seem to Get Any Easier
450 square feet of yellow walls, not muted or pale yellow but the bright yellow-orange of mangoes.
It was where we would call home for the next year. Only a year.
So even though we were told that we could paint them a different color, we chose not to.
We would make do.
Move-in Day
We chose a furnished apartment for this very reason. The bed barely fit the two of us, and the vinyl couch that was an obvious, second-hand IKEA find looked fine, but it was the most uncomfortable couch I think I've ever sat on. I don't know anyone who loves the feeling of vinyl on their bare legs, and it was the kind of couch that forced you to sit straight up.
As an introvert, being able to come home and sink into a cozy couch or chair is how I thrive, and instead of feeling relief when I would arrive home after those long days of teaching English around the city, I would dread the very thought of sitting or lying on that couch.
We had brought a couple of pictures from home to hang on our walls, but had not yet put them up. We kept thinking that if we put them up, we'll just have to take them right back down in a few months so what was the point?
And then there was the Czech language. As determined as I was to learn it, my brain would only allow me to learn just enough to get by and this mindset was fueled by people saying, upon hearing that we were attempting the impossible, that there was "no point in learning Czech because most people speak English here."
And again, it was only for one year…
We could make do.
There's this funny thing about travel. There's no denying that it's exhilarating. Going to exotic destinations, trying new foods, and experiencing a new culture is arguably one of life's greatest pleasures.
Casual travel means no worries about learning the language; it's all part of the fun! You can laugh off the looks of irritation from the locals; you're not there to make friends anyway. You get to be blissfully ignorant because you're a tourist, a visitor just passing through.
If the accommodations are sub-par, it becomes a funny little side-quest in your travel stories. If the food is not to your taste, you snack on whatever you've got stashed in your backpack from back home.
And without meaning to or realizing it, we had moved to Czech Republic with this short-term, we're-just- passing-through mindset.
Life abroad seemed so glamorous, but now, this was the place we lived and worked, and suddenly, we couldn't offend that little, older lady making the delicious pastries with our perceived rudeness because we were going to have to see that lady every time we wanted some on-the-go breakfast.
We moved to Czech, hitting the ground running like two determined sprinters with their eyes only on the finish line. We had to make the most of our time there, and so we never allowed our bodies and minds to rest no matter how much they cried out for it.
There was so much to do in our daily lives as freelance teachers who now had to learn how to run a business in addition to our duties as missionaries, and any time we had a free day or days, we didn't rest because we had to explore. We weren't going to be living there forever, after all.
And we could make do. It was only a year.
We were exhausted already after just a few months, and that one-year sprint turned into a four-year marathon that we had not trained or properly prepared for.
I wish I could say that this temporary, "we'll-make-do" mindset wasn't a pattern for us, but it was.
Somehow the college mindset that we began our married-life with carried through into our career, to our move abroad, and even to parenthood. Always looking to the next thing, the next goal: graduate, get a job, get a better job, get through this or that and everything will change for us.
If we can just make it through this season…
I can't help but wonder where this temporary mindset began.
Maybe it came from the well-intentioned encouragement touted to many of us in difficult circumstances:
"It's just a season," or "it's just a phase."
While this can be reassuring in the immediate moment, reminding us that the difficult times won't last forever, we end up living our entire lives in survival mode, wishing away the current season and holding out for the next one when things will be "easier."
But "easier" never comes.
The chaos continues. The new season, that was supposed to be our savior, comes and knocks us out of our ruts and routines that we had just managed to establish. And we begin the new season already yearning for the next or longing for the previous one.
Perhaps new seasons and new phases simply present us with a new kind of hard.
New opportunities to learn the same lessons over and over because we never actually learn…
And we miss over and over what is meant for us in the here and now.
Once I recognized the toll this make-do mindset was having on my overall well-being, I decided it was time to take some of the pressure off…
Starting with the pressure to learn the impossible language (it's not really impossible but it is VERY different from English), and I started trying to make connections with people that were willing to talk to me in English or my limited Czech because more than needing to learn to speak the Czech language, I needed friends.
I was (and still am) a human after all, with a deep need for community and connection, and if I was going to make this home instead of just making do, I needed those more than anything.
We never did paint the yellow walls nor did we buy a more comfy couch.
But we did manage to make home in small little ways over time.
Our first Christmas
We put up the few décor items we had brought with us, and some of the new ones we decided to buy simply to make it feel more like home.
And when Christmas came around that first year, I tried to act like I would be fine without a Christmas tree…It seemed like an unnecessary frivolity. We barely had space for what we had brought with us, and we knew we'd just have to get rid of it when it was time to move back to the United States.
We were also on a pretty tight budget, and so I tried to not make a big deal about it.
Obviously, I wasn't very convincing because I came home from work one evening in late November; it was the week of Thanksgiving which is not a Czech holiday, and I found a Tesco bag full of ornaments and twinkle lights, and a small, artificial Christmas tree already set up in the living room ready to be decorated.
And I cried.
I needed that tree. And Robbie did, too, even though he'd probably say he bought it for me. But it had been our little tradition since we first got married to put up a Christmas tree and make fancy appetizers and watch Harry Potter, and neither one of us wanted to miss out on that. And it made us feel immediately at home.
And over the years, we made friends. Real friends. And we invited them over to sit with us on that uncomfortable couch.
And I told Robbie that wherever we moved next, and for however long we were going to be there, I was decorating that place, even if it was going to be just for a few weeks.
It seems to me that life is this weird tension between being present and embracing this moment, here and now, and still being hopeful for our future, to our someday…
and someday isn't a bad place to think or dream about, but we can't live there and be present here at the same time.
This is just a season. Yes.
But maybe it would serve us better to settle in, at least for now.
I have found there is beauty in every season including the temporary ones, and I suppose that is the nature of every season…temporary, even though they may seem to last forever. And when we can't see the beauty in the season we're in, may we create it.
May we learn to make home instead of just making do.
May we choose to paint those walls. Buy that comfy bed or sofa. Put up the decorations. Relax. Invite people into our imperfect homes and our imperfect lives.
They need beauty, too, and hospitality, openness, and authenticity, coupled with love, are quite possibly the most beautiful things in this world.
What if we were to fully embrace wherever we are on our journey recognizing that home can be here and now, so that instead of looking to the past or the future seasons, we will see that perhaps this season has something to teach us or some beauty to show us, if we'll lean in, watching and listening. Here and now.
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