A bottle of wine and unfinished business

A few of the things within my eyesight at this moment are a famous photo of Joe DiMaggio hitting a homerun (that would be Roy's), a photo of my children in which the difference between Connor then and now is startling, a fist-sized typewriter replica reminding me I'm a writer (a gift from Elise), a charcoal drawing of me 8-months pregnant that has disconcerted the occasional roaming guest (it IS in my bedroom), a marble curio box Roy brought home from Russia, the president's signature from the days he was governor and I worked in the capitol, Roy's unfinished passport application, a Yankee candle Roy loves and I think smells like dead crickets (Midsummer's Night) and an empty bottle of Concha Y Toro 2003 Merlot.

It's the empty bottle of wine that cracks me up. I imagine what it might look like were an acquaintance unfamiliar with my habits to walk in at this moment: the kids, playing happily (it does happen occasionally) while Mom sits in front of the computer next to an open bottle of wine.

"And she's a Baptist, at that!"

Well, the bottle has been empty a few weeks. Its demise can be attributed to a lovely dinner party. Roy liked it so much he asked me to save the bottle so he wouldn’t forget the label. I'm tired of looking at it, so yesterday I brought it in here so that I could email label particulars to him at work -- and then throw away the bottle.

Haven't gotten to that last part yet.

There are lots of unfinished things around this old house. Further north or east, 80-year-old houses are commonplace. But here in East Texas, they aren't the norm. We bought it six years ago as a fixer-upper. It has wood floors and plenty of charm, all right, but it also has a seemingly endless to-do list. Thankfully, I have a very handy husband (who can translate Latin AND build furniture), but he spends long hours at work and understandably isn't interested in tackling The List every evening. So we've hired a few things done. Most of our counter-balance wood windows with the wavy glass (love the wavy glass/hate the rotting wood) have been replaced by sturdier, insulated windows. The job required most of the windows to be completely ripped out, so there's now exposed 2-by-4's inside that we'll have to cover with trim and paint. We've got a beautiful new front door -- that's unfinished on the inside. The siding on the garage was rotting, so Roy's replacing boards at this moment. The porch doors are only half painted (my job).

It's just my nature, I suppose, to be bothered by unfinished things. Almost-done this and nearly-complete that. No matter how good something looks, if it isn't complete, it hasn't reached its potential. That really bugs me. I've been thinking the last few days about why it bothers me so much, and I think it's because I am so unfinished. If I'm unhappy about the trim that still needs painting (which, yes, is my job to do), what must God be thinking when he sees where I am in my faith walk and where I could be? Sometimes I feel as though I'm little more than stud walls and exposed plumbing. I have the foundation, but I lack the will to do the hard building, much less the finish work.

Thankfully, the Carpenter hasn't given up on me.

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