By Lynna Clark

In a 1925 house we once remodeled, we discovered a very unique door. It has an etched glass panel, iron bars and is very heavy for its size. I really like it. I don’t know what it was in its previous life. But through the years, we’ve cleaned it up and placed it flat on tall bar stools to make a writing desk. Later it became a buffet table in the dining room. It worked perfectly since it is so narrow and we have a teeny tiny house. Not like a trendy tiny house where we have to sleep like bats hanging from the rafters. That would not be delightful. More like a house where every space is important. It’s a great place with many quirky nooks and crannies. Kinda like an English muffin. In our bedroom there, is a doorway turned closet, that used to open into the kitchen. That is now the place where the refrigerator is tucked — on the kitchen side. That bedroom closet has never had a door. It used to have a curtain but that too was not delightful. Since there are only three small closets in the whole house, I surely don’t diminish the importance of the funky space. It actually has two bars for hanging clothes; one on top and one on the bottom, so we use it for David’s pants and shirts. I got tired of looking at that tidy arrangement. So I wondered, how hard could it be to add barndoor hardware to our old door?

However.

Another wonderful thing about an old house is that nothing is square. Or level. Or easy. It turned out that if the hardware was level with the crown molding, which had been pieced together, the door hung whoppy-jawed over the opening with about a three-inch gap on one corner. I’m a wee bit crazy concerning things like that — if a picture is not straight, I can’t let it be until I fix it; even in the doctor’s office or a restaurant. But seeing how hard David had worked to make this right, I lied and told him it was OK. It was a Rahab lie. You know, for the advancement of God’s kingdom, or something like that. He shook his head. He took the very heavy door down and started over. A choice was made. The top hardware would not be exactly level. But at least there would be no gap with shirtsleeves peaking out. It’s amazing what a quarter-inch adjustment means in the grand scheme of things.

Eventually he got the door hung over the closet “hole.” Is it square? Uh, no. Is it level? Somewhat. Does it function? Yes! Was it easy? That’s a big negatory. But, do I love it? Yes I do. Something my weird psyche has had to learn is that things can’t always be perfect. But they can be beautiful. Sometimes all it takes is a minor adjustment. And that can usually be made in my thinking. Now when I look at the old door, I no longer see flaws. Instead I see a funky door that covers a plethora of odds and ends that used to be on display to God and everybody.

It feels a bit like contentment. Is it beautiful to me? Yes it is.