Things were looking a little tired as spring announced itself on the calendar. In the old days, I used to rearrange the furniture when the tiredness of my surroundings collided with the anticipation of spring. Over time I learned rearranging the furniture spontaneously didn't go well and I began the practice of planning first. Two weeks ago, the graph paper, ruler, and pencil came out to play.
For a delicious hour on a quiet Sunday, I drew a scale drawing, cut out little furniture shapes, and played with my puzzle. How would the pieces fit? Where were the gaps or empty spaces? The last time I went through a similar exercise I was rearranging my office. When we moved in to the house, the fellows plunked the credenza, file cabinet, and desk down in the best configuration they could think of quickly. I worked in that space for four years but every time I went into it, I felt uncomfortable. I played with scale drawings for months while entertaining the idea that I had to sell my existing office furniture and buy all new pieces. Going that route seemed so drastic and wasteful that I kept playing with my little pieces of paper. Other people were consulted. When the kids came to visit, they were asked for their opinions. During the whole quest, I had to keep working in the space.
Sometimes in the middle of my work I got up, walked around the space, and mentally wrestled with the problem. The tape measure was my companion. It sat on the desk with my pens amidst the files. I measured over and over as if the numbers would change. But the numbers didn't change. One day as I was pondering the layout I realized the scale drawing of one piece of furniture looked off in relationship to the others.
The error had escaped me the whole time I was ruminating on the arrangement. Failure to notice that error led me to waste all kinds of time and effort trying to solve the wrong problem. The graph paper, ruler, and pencils come out in our lives periodically. When they come out, we walk that fine line between the excitement of something new and the danger of an ill-informed decision. We run the risk of tossing out the old carelessly.
When you get the urge to rearrange the furniture or life; be careful. Get the paper out. Do a little measuring, some planning, and a touch of reflection. Remember, time is your friend if you use it wisely. Measure again. Ask yourself what will really change if you move the pieces around. Sit down in the middle of the puzzle, whether that is a room or your life, and think. Be intentional when you begin to move the furniture or parts of your life. Intentionality fosters courage and inspiration.
Sometimes in the middle of my work I got up, walked around the space, and mentally wrestled with the problem. The tape measure was my companion. It sat on the desk with my pens amidst the files. I measured over and over as if the numbers would change. But the numbers didn't change. One day as I was pondering the layout I realized the scale drawing of one piece of furniture looked off in relationship to the others.
The error had escaped me the whole time I was ruminating on the arrangement. Failure to notice that error led me to waste all kinds of time and effort trying to solve the wrong problem. The graph paper, ruler, and pencils come out in our lives periodically. When they come out, we walk that fine line between the excitement of something new and the danger of an ill-informed decision. We run the risk of tossing out the old carelessly.
When you get the urge to rearrange the furniture or life; be careful. Get the paper out. Do a little measuring, some planning, and a touch of reflection. Remember, time is your friend if you use it wisely. Measure again. Ask yourself what will really change if you move the pieces around. Sit down in the middle of the puzzle, whether that is a room or your life, and think. Be intentional when you begin to move the furniture or parts of your life. Intentionality fosters courage and inspiration.
What pieces of furniture or life are you thinking about rearranging?
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