“Have no fear of perfection—you’ll never reach it.” —Salvador Dali

First, we know that we’re not quite there yet. Fact is, we may never be! But Rebekah and I are – regardless – very much looking forward to hosting our son Andrew and family (Alicia and Mr. T.) over this coming weekend. In consequence, the new Maul-Hall on Saint Patrick Street is so very close to presentable I have to share a few photos.

This week has seen – to date – a lot of detail work. Many more pictures mounted on the walls, all blinds and shades now installed, surfaces cleared off, tools put away, massive amounts of dog hair vacuumed, stuff put in the storage shed that may well come back in the house again after they leave… and a whole lot more.

Plus (and this is a big one) getting the handrail installed on the front steps. It’s an important safety feature and also an aesthetic plus.

Someone asked what effect we were going for as we continue to fine-tune the interior. We looked a little confused so they clarified, “You know, style. What is your theme for this house?”

It’s something we have been asked more than once, and every time the query kind of throws us. Because the answer isn’t anything in the way of “Federal,” or “Victorian,” or “Contemporary,” or “Retro,” or “Reimagined 19th Century,” or “Mid-century modern,” or even – and this was the running joke with many of our young-adult friends when we were starting out, “Early Motel….”

No, the answer to our decorating style is pretty much this: “We want it to look like Rebekah and Derek live here.” And also, probably more importantly, “We want people to feel they can get to know us as they walk around this house.”

This really is us.

Story:

Okay, short story to illustrate. When I wrote personality profiles for the Tampa Tribune I published a long series featuring Christian ministers in the region – I believe I interviewed close to 300 over ten years.

I always preferred to meet in the pastor’s personal office space, and the first thing I did – even before I started to take notes – was to look around and ask them to tell me some of the stories that went with the books, the photographs and the artifacts.

Sometimes a mostly empty bookshelf, the absence of family photographs or a set of golf clubs behind the door can speak volumes. Intentional or not, these offices gave me a lot of insight into the greater story.

You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everyone. – 2 Corinthians 3:2

If Rebekah and I do this right, our house will write our story too. – DEREK