About 15 years ago, we purchased my husband’s childhood home from his mother. For the past 14 years, we have been renovating the house, which was built in the 1880s. My husband has done much of the work himself, with some assistance from me.
A year after moving into the house, we hired two men to re-shingle the roof. They removed multiple layers of old shingles, covered the roof boards with plywood and installed new shingles. It was a definite improvement, but accented the fact that the rest of the house needed to be repaired and painted.Based on information in This Old House magazine, we purchased a Paint Shaver, specifically designed to remove lead-based paint. The grinder’s metal blades, rotating at high speed, chipped away the contaminated paint, while an industrial-strength vacuum collected it. Atop two-story-high scaffolding, my husband began the task of removing all the paint from the house’s eaves. Later, he removed the paint from the first-story clapboard siding. (The upper level, which is covered with cedar shakes, did not require shaving.) It was a labor-intensive task. Over the course of more than a century, successive layers of paint had hardened in the sun to an alligator-skin-like surface that resisted removal.
Removing the paint left the wood in a rough condition that required sanding, and that was just the beginning. Siding had to be repaired and, in some cases, replaced. Windows—both primary and storm—had to be reglazed and readied for painting. Only when a particular section of the house was fully prepped could it be painted, first with primer and then two topcoats. Working evenings and weekends in the spring, summer and fall, it took us two years, and not until the end of the second fall were we able to sit back and admire the completed project. It was worth it. Our old house had been transformed. It was beautiful!
One day, while we were painting, a woman stopped by and said, “I have been watching your progress on the house. This is definitely a work of love!” She was right.
The work is not finished, however; there is plenty to be done on the inside, as well as on the garage. It is a daunting task that never seems to end. Progress has been made, but there is still a long list of jobs before us. Since it is our summer home and we do the work ourselves, fitting it in between other demands on our schedule, we will probably be working on the project for years to come. I often jokingly complain, “We will be doing this till the day we die!”
In restoring this old house, I am frequently reminded of the similarities between our project and the renovation Jesus Christ does in a believer. He purchased us by dying on the cross. When we accept his gift of eternal life, he moves into our worn, tattered and broken dwelling and begins restoration, scraping away old paint, repairing cracks and applying new paint. Gradually, he renovates us, transforming us into something beautiful. This process, too, is a work of love and will take a lifetime.
A year after moving into the house, we hired two men to re-shingle the roof. They removed multiple layers of old shingles, covered the roof boards with plywood and installed new shingles. It was a definite improvement, but accented the fact that the rest of the house needed to be repaired and painted.Based on information in This Old House magazine, we purchased a Paint Shaver, specifically designed to remove lead-based paint. The grinder’s metal blades, rotating at high speed, chipped away the contaminated paint, while an industrial-strength vacuum collected it. Atop two-story-high scaffolding, my husband began the task of removing all the paint from the house’s eaves. Later, he removed the paint from the first-story clapboard siding. (The upper level, which is covered with cedar shakes, did not require shaving.) It was a labor-intensive task. Over the course of more than a century, successive layers of paint had hardened in the sun to an alligator-skin-like surface that resisted removal.
Removing the paint left the wood in a rough condition that required sanding, and that was just the beginning. Siding had to be repaired and, in some cases, replaced. Windows—both primary and storm—had to be reglazed and readied for painting. Only when a particular section of the house was fully prepped could it be painted, first with primer and then two topcoats. Working evenings and weekends in the spring, summer and fall, it took us two years, and not until the end of the second fall were we able to sit back and admire the completed project. It was worth it. Our old house had been transformed. It was beautiful!
One day, while we were painting, a woman stopped by and said, “I have been watching your progress on the house. This is definitely a work of love!” She was right.
The work is not finished, however; there is plenty to be done on the inside, as well as on the garage. It is a daunting task that never seems to end. Progress has been made, but there is still a long list of jobs before us. Since it is our summer home and we do the work ourselves, fitting it in between other demands on our schedule, we will probably be working on the project for years to come. I often jokingly complain, “We will be doing this till the day we die!”
In restoring this old house, I am frequently reminded of the similarities between our project and the renovation Jesus Christ does in a believer. He purchased us by dying on the cross. When we accept his gift of eternal life, he moves into our worn, tattered and broken dwelling and begins restoration, scraping away old paint, repairing cracks and applying new paint. Gradually, he renovates us, transforming us into something beautiful. This process, too, is a work of love and will take a lifetime.
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