One thing that I’m really good at is making something out of nothing. It probably stems from not having a choice most of my life. I can remember my mom saving everything. Every single thing. There was never a scrap piece of wood or fabric too small. If there was a remote chance that it could be used for a future project, we kept it. I still do this.

When you don’t have the money or resources to just go buy whatever you want/need, you learn to get resourceful. It pains me to have to go buy a full board for a small project or to cut a full sheet of paper for a small tag. Growing up, you simply grabbed a big enough scrap from the shed/closet/drawer. You used all of something, not just part of it. You didn’t throw away stuff when you were done with a project. Chances are, those scraps could and would be used for something else later.

Over the years, I’ve learned to make things pretty with whatever I had on hand. I decorated houses with stuff I’d collected here and there. I moved boxes of that stuff from house to house, not getting rid of much because I might need it in the next place. I made outfits out of odds and ends and I learned to shop sale racks. I have always had an eye for “good deals” and I attribute that to having to do things on a small or nonexistent budget. Well, here I am again. I’m gearing up for a move and it’s time to make something out of nothing again. It’s time to show what I’m made of.

When I began planning #wfwhitehouse I had big dreams of new furniture and perfectly themed decor. My plan was to have enough room in the budget to buy some new couches and a few keys pieces, just for this house. I’d get new pillows and new rugs and this house would get the beautiful, fresh start it deserves.

Then reality struck. Reality is that there will not be enough money left over for new furniture. Reality is, there might not be enough money for counter tops! Against my will, I’m going to be forced to make it work. Again, I’m going to have to get creative and dig deep for ideas. I’m going to have to show what I’m made of.

A part of me cringes at the thought. Part of me, no matter how hard I try to hide it, is afraid that I won’t be able to pull it off. I had big dreams of this huge reveal party where I unveil this rehabilitated masterpiece, fully furnished and beautiful. I’ve dreamed of inviting people in to this home I’m building and having something wonderful to show them. I wanted a fresh start, a chance to build something new, and it’s simply not going to happen as I’d planned.

Instead, I’ll be moving this same couch and this pink striped chair that I’m sitting in currently. I’ll have those same patio chairs, pretending to be dining chairs, and I’ll bring those same pillows and curtains. I’ll hang the same art on the walls and use the same old dishes. As disappointed as I am over giving up my dream of all things new, I know I’ll make it work. I’ll figure it out as I always do and it’ll probably look great. Nonetheless, I’m still a little plagued with disappointment. I’m still a bit sad that it won’t be new and fresh. I’m still craving funky new end tables and cozy new throws.

As I sit here and look around the room, I do my best to envision where I’ll put all of this old stuff and how I’ll make it feel fresh. I imagine where I’ll put that dresser, my first piece of vintage furniture to ever own, and I think about what I’ll stack on top or hang above it. I can’t see it just yet. I don’t know where it or that basket of blankets will go. I do know that I have to keep thinking about it. I have to figure out how to use what I have this time because things didn’t go as planned. I have to make it work and make it happen. I know that I will. I’ll make it work because I always do. I’ll sit in disappointment for a moment and then I’ll get up and get to work. The show must go on and this house will be pretty enough, welcoming enough, and plenty fine for spending time with the people I love. Even without new lamps.