Houston weather is hard to predict in November. I’ve turned on the heat once (an overnight low in the high 40’s), and I’m trying to avoid running the air conditioner altogether. But it’s anyone’s guess whether the day will dawn chilly or warm. (Sorry Dr. Neil Frank and Frank B.) November just can’t make up its mind.
Weather may waver, but one thing is as predictable as clockwork in late fall: catalogs. They’re pushed through (or stuck in) the mail slot of my front door in multiples these days. (Apparently they refuse to travel alone.) And as the retail mania that accompanies the season intensifies, the “thud” of them dropping into the hallway gets louder and more pronounced.
There’s Horchow and Williams Sonoma and Sundance. Nordstrom and Crate and Barrel. Restoration Hardware and Levenger. Like pretty magazines you don’t have to pay for, the catalogs are stuffed with color and craftsmanship and beautiful photography. Oh – and they’re full of things I don’t need, but could be enticed to want if I linger long enough over their pages.
I have to confess I have a favorite. It’s Pottery Barn. It’s fat and full of artfully arranged rooms and carefully collected accessories. It’s not so lavish that it seems out of reach, or so ordinary that it doesn’t spark my imagination. And when the last one came, I figured out why it’s so alluring: It contains no people. Not a single model breaks into the spaces of the Pottery Barn life, so it’s easy to imagine that it could be my life.
That perfectly arranged table could be my tabletop. (Well,
barring good judgment and a budget it could.) The sofa with a textured throw
draped over the end and pillows off-handedly placed only needs me to curl up
there with a steaming mug of tea. The pristine bathroom with not a single sign
of toothpaste or damp towels is ready for me to stroll in and muss it up – and
the plush, duvet covered bed shows no signs that anyone recently sat on the
foot of it to pull on pantyhose, then forgot to smooth it back.
The
catalog life is perfect because no one lives there!
I don’t want the catalog life. I want peopled, imperfect, intimate life. Life with some things missing, and other things out of place. Life with interruptions and joys and sorrows and less-than-artful celebrations. I’m not made for sterile, catalog life. No one is. That’s why no one shows up on those Pottery Barn pages.
These days I’m celebrating that God didn’t send us a catalog
showing us how perfect things are in heaven. He entered our world – our messy,
people-strewn, noisy, dirty world – not just to tell us about His dwelling place, but to show us how
to live in ours. Because He’s not selling anything. He came to give all that He
has away.
© Leigh McLeroy, 2006
Leigh, I love the catolog imagery. You've got me thinking. Thanks! - Amy
Posted by: Amy Lauger | November 09, 2006 at 04:17 PM