Show Rooms or Real Life?

A few weeks ago, I earned a few days off for good behavior, and my "reward" was a case of the flu.

"Yuck," you're probably thinking. "Couldn't you have just had a root canal or something restful?"

Well, actually, as flu bugs go, this one wasn't too bad. Other than coughing, I was only able to sleep (a lot), eat (a little) and think (very little). In between coughing and sleeping, I could ruminate on some of the greater questions of the universe. And the one I kept coming back to was this:
"WHY do furniture showrooms look as though they were designed without Real Life in mind?"

Since I was a couch potato for a day, I had flipped through some furniture ads mindlessly and the difference between the photographs and "real life" were laughable! I chuckled at the pristine white couches (no children with markers or muddy sneakers), the tippy lamps (no cats), the clutter-free surfaces (a family with no junk mail), the coaster-free side tables (no one apparently uses glassware). I saw windows with no finger smears, crystal vases at a toddler's level and objets d'art that would have made great teethers. But there were no magazines or newspapers or any books beside an easy chair. No crayoned pictures of horses and unicorns, or cats and rainbows were on the refrigerator. The bathtubs were free of rubber duckies, wet footprints and soggy towels. And the ad copy proclaimed, "Let us design a NEW LOOK for your home!"

"No thanks," I thought. "I like the look I've got! I'll keep every smudge, every crayoned picture, every sturdy and utilitarian piece of hand-me-down furniture I own. I'll restack the books, recycle the newspapers and reread Fox in Socks one more time (by special request!) I'll trip over Barbie clothes and backpacks, and try to find the clean laundry. I'll admire the showrooms of life... and keep the rooms full of love and hugs and piles of sneakers!"

Not that I don't envy women who have "showroom" homes. I appreciate a spotless house. I revel in my clean floors (even if they only last five minutes!) I am proud of myself when I can put my hands on a book or tool the first time I go looking for it! But I'd rather play in the leaves with my kids, or subdue the weeds in my garden. I prefer to play my piano or read a book than sew matching pillows, curtains and linens. So, by choice, I have created that "lived-in" look, rather than the "showroom" look.

I guess none of this is very profound or "spiritual". Who wouldn't rather play than do chores? Or have all the money we want to buy what we see? I have struggled in recent months with my "casual decor" and longed for something perhaps a little classier. I have coveted the nicely appointed homes of friends and grumbled about how mine pales in comparison. I've wanted a maid to pick up after me! But I have also learned that contentment, a peace that is soaked in so deep it hits your toenails, is not bought or designed. I just have to learn to find it, where I am and in whatever I am doing. Easy? Well, not for me. But I am starting to get the hang of it (sometimes!)