I was just real thankful we had the peace and quiet of the farm to go back to at the end of every day. It really did become our sanctuary.
Our home became more important than it had ever been. As we said a little earlier, I think God knew that place was exactly what our family needed in this new season. I am just so grateful for so many of the things we accomplished and even the challenges we went through before we landed on TV. Truly, if we hadn’t gone through that whole journey together, I don’t know how Chip and I could ever keep up with the schedule or the pressures brought on by the wonderful opportunities that keep popping up in our lives.
When it comes to success, fame, money, and all those things people think they want in life, I think a lot of us tend to get it backward. This is one of the lessons I’m thankful for learning on the bumpy road we took before landing ourselves on TV.
Most people think that you start off not thriving. Then you get a TV show or some other amazing opportunity, you get fame, you get fortune, and then you thrive. That’s certainly what I thought earlier in my own life. But what’s interesting to me is that Chip and I got to a place where we were thriving—as a couple, as a family, as business partners—before any of this new success unfolded.
Our marriage never suffered in all we’ve gone through because Chip and I were drawn even closer together, knowing down deep in our hearts that we had to hold on to each other if we were ever going to make it out alive.
It was in the middle of all that struggle that I found my true inspiration as a designer—the very thing that so many people seem to be drawn to now that I’ve received this opportunity to share my work with the world.
I always thought that the “thriving” would come when everything was perfect, and what I learned is that it’s actually down in the mess that things get good.
It was such a blessing to find myself thriving in the middle of the pain. Unless you find a way to do that, there’s always going to be this fake illusion that once you get there—wherever “there” is for you—you’ll be happy. But that’s just not life. If you can’t find happiness in the ugliness, you’re not going to find it in the beauty, either.
I have learned that if you’re looking for perfection in your house, you can get it. But as soon as you have it, you’re going to sit on your couch and find you’re still unhappy. You’ll find yourself continuing to say, “What’s next? What now? What do I need to do?”
I worked hard to try to do it all, to try to live up to the Pinterest perfection that only leaves you discontented. I finally realized that life isn’t found on the pages of a magazine—life is found in the glass of spilled milk and in the long, narrow hallway filled with socks and soccer balls.
For the first four years of having kids, I threw elaborate birthday parties. I spent money we shouldn’t have spent. And then I realized that my two-year-olds didn’t even notice all the details I’d spent so much time and money on. All they wanted was cake! And I did all this for what? For me? To look impressive?
Now I make homemade cakes, I blow up balloons and we pop them. That’s all. Kids just want to be kids. They don’t obsess about all the details. What they might remember are all the silly faces mom makes when she blows up balloons and the taste of that homemade cake with sprinkles. That’s what they’ll remember. Not a picture-perfect party.
I had to learn the hard way. I had to go through those kind of “What is my intention behind these things?” questions. I had to go through that feeling that many moms get when the party is over and you’re exhausted and mad that you spent all the money before I could share this message with others.
Ready for it? Here it is.
Letting it all go is freeing. (And it’s cheaper too!)
I am learning that getting our intentions right simplifies our decisions in life and changes our perspective. And in the end, what it’s all about is thankfulness and contentment.
In December of 2014, a friend of mine forwarded me a blog post written by a woman who was dying of cancer. Kara Tippetts was thirty-seven years old, and she was in her last months of life as she typed out her post. I’m paraphrasing here, but what she said was, “I’m watching this show in the hospital called Fixer Upper, and my kids are at home. I have four kids like them. I wish I could be in my own bed and decorate my house for Christmas.”
We were in the middle of filming, working on multiple renovation projects at once, and dealing with the craziness of the holiday season like any other family. But I said, “Chip, I’m going to see her. I feel like I’m supposed to go and decorate her house for Christmas.”
We wrote to let her know we were coming, and two close friends of mine hopped on a plane with me to Colorado. When we got to her house, she was upstairs, lying in bed. She had been in the hospital for some time, and she was glad to be home. She was in a lot of pain, but being home with her family gave her comfort.
Kara had lost her hair during chemo and had just started growing it back when I met her. When I walked into her room and saw her for the first time, she radiated so much peace and beauty in the midst of her evident pain. She was so sick that she wasn’t supposed to stand up to give me a hug, but she struggled and asked for help and stood up and did it anyway.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.
Kara’s house was chaotic. It was full of life. Full of her life. She didn’t choose quiet, peaceful, alone time in her final days. She wanted to be in the middle of it all.
I didn’t know why I was there. I didn’t know what I could do for her. And it turned out, I think, that she did more for me. The more we spoke, the more amazed I was at her story. She chose to find the joy in the midst of suffering. Every inch of her home reflected beauty and life. Before she got sick she had been intentional about celebrating this sweet season of life with four young children—not for anyone else, but her own babies. She had found the secret, and her children thrived there.
I found myself wondering, “What would the world be like if everybody had her mind-set?” She just reconfirmed for me a million times over that it’s up to us to choose contentment and thankfulness now—and to stop imagining that we have to have everything perfect before we’ll be happy.
I was struggling at that particular time of my life, trying to incorporate the cameras and the long days of filming a TV show around everything else that was going on in our lives. But I left Colorado with an entirely new resolve: I would never forget that all of this is a blessing. I would never forget to be thankful—and to find joy.
Kara passed away a couple of months after our visit. Even though I only visited with her for a couple of days, I felt like I had lost a mentor and dear friend. Her example helped ignite a spark in me to see things differently and to live wholly and intentionally for those closest to me.
I am thankful our show paved a path for me to meet Kara. She was a gift.
People ask us sometimes, “Why the connection? Why are people drawn to Fixer Upper and the way you and Chip interact?”
I can’t fully answer that question. I honestly don’t know. But I think—I hope—that a lot of it has to do with the way we’ve chosen to live our lives.
And I hope our example is a good one.
FIFTEEN
THE BLOOM
In May of 2014, just after the first season of Fixer Upper started airing, we did something that had seemed unimaginable eight years earlier. I turned the key in the other direction and reopened my little shop on Bosque Boulevard.