Dear reader, we’re taking a break from the memoir-in-progress to assess the accomplishments of the past year. My husband and I closed on the 126-year-old Methodist church just shy of a year ago, and the changes have been immense. For the next week or so, I’m going to tell the story in before-and-after photos. Whenever possible I’ll try to use the same perspective in the “after” shot as I did long ago in the “before.” Today, we look at the master bedroom.
Tomorrow: The master bath. See it here.
Dear reader, we’re taking a break from the memoir-in-progress to assess the accomplishments of the past year. My husband and I closed on the 126-year-old Methodist church just shy of a year ago, and the changes have been immense. For the next week or so, I’m going to tell the story in before-and-after photos. Whenever possible I’ll try to use the same perspective in the “after” shot as I did long ago in the “before.” Yesterday, we checked out the back door, and today we proceed down the hallway to the left of the kitchen that we’re calling The Hall of History.
The Hall of History leads to the master suite and the back stairway to the second floor. We intend to hang historical images of the church and pictures of our ancestors here so we chose to keep this hallway as original as possible. The door to the hallway is original, we left some of the paint patina on the floor and all the light fixtures were found elsewhere in the church when we purchased it.
Here’s a closer look at the back steps which were rebuilt and recarpeted (I finally removed the sticky-backed protective plastic covering for this “after” photo). We also had new hand railing fabricated. The walls on the stair landing are shiplap we simply painted after removing the paneling (no Sheetrock there). The door on the left leads to a closet beneath the belfry; this area used to be the original entrance to the church. The French doors on the right lead to the master bedroom.
Here’s a look from the stairway back through the Hall of History into the great room. You can see the antique light fixtures a bit better here.
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Today’s headline is a quote from modern Uruguayan journalist and novelist Eduardo Galeano.
Tomorrow: The master bedroom. See it here.
Dear reader, we’re taking a break from the memoir-in-progress to assess the accomplishments of the past year. My husband and I closed on the 126-year-old Methodist church just shy of a year ago, and the changes have been immense. For the next week or so, I’m going to tell the story in before-and-after photos. Whenever possible I’ll try to use the same perspective in the “after” shot as I did long ago in the “before.” Yesterday, we looked at the kitchen and balcony, and today we take a peek into the mudroom (the alcove to the right of the kitchen).
Tomorrow: The Hall of History. See it in all its before-and-after glory here.
Dear reader, we’re taking a break from the memoir-in-progress to assess the accomplishments of the past year. My husband and I closed on the 126-year-old Methodist church just shy of a year ago, and the changes have been immense. For the next week and half or so, I’m going to tell the story in before-and-after photos. Whenever possible I’ll try to use the same perspective in the “after” shot as I did long ago in the “before.” Yesterday, we walked into the former sanctuary to see a fireplace where the altar used to be. Now we turn to the left to take in the kitchen.
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Today’s headline is a quote from 20th century Lebanese-American poet Khalil Gibran.
Tomorrow: The mudroom. See it here.
Dear reader, we’re taking a break from the memoir-in-progress to assess the accomplishments of the past year. My husband and I closed on the 126-year-old Methodist church just shy of a year ago, and the changes have been immense. For the next week and half or so, I’m going to tell the story in before-and-after photos. Whenever possible I’ll try to use the same perspective in the “after” shot as I did long ago in the “before.” Yesterday, we took in the new front doors. Skipping through the entryway (which isn’t finished or even semi-finished yet), we walk into what used to be the sanctuary of the church.
Tomorrow: The kitchen. See it here.
Dear reader, we’re taking a break from the memoir-in-progress to assess the progress we’ve made during the past year. My husband and I closed on the 126-year-old Methodist church just shy of a year ago, and the changes have been immense. For the next week and half or so, I’m going to tell the story in before-and-after photos. Whenever possible, I’ll try to use the same perspective in the “after” shot as I did long ago in the “before.” Yesterday, we drove up to see the church, and today we prepare to enter the front door.
Today’s headline is a partial quote from actress Elizabeth Taylor. Her full quote is, “I feel very adventurous. There are so many doors to be opened, and I’m not afraid to look behind them.”
Tomorrow: The entryway is not yet finished, so we’re skipping to the sanctuary. Check it out here.
Our story so far: My husband and I purchased a 126-year-old Methodist church, demolished the interior and rebuilt it back into our dream home.
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Chapter 44
My sister, who followed my every move on Facebook with enthusiasm (like a good sister should), had been privy throughout the construction of the church to a string of secret pictures and previews. Frequently, she implored: “More pictures.” So I obliged. It was easy, thanks to Verizon and smart phones. When we talked, the church and our work was all I could prattle about.
But until October, she and her family hadn’t seen any of it in person. She and my brother-in-law were busy people, parents to three busy boys, and they lived seven or eight hours north of our little renovation project. Finally, a long weekend break—and the prospect of an operational bathroom and guest bed—offered the perfect opportunity for four of them—my oldest nephew was off to college—to pay us a little visit.
Sister came bearing more of Dad’s homegrown apples and an obscene amount of Halloween candy. And gushing. Lots of gushing. Music to my ears. Even the fifteen-year-old, who probably couldn’t care less about Auntie’s crazy church house, was complimentary. And my ten-year-old—a doll! He carved a Halloween jack-o-lantern to decorate my church sign.
But despite the string of pictures I’d shared with her, few of them were “before” shots. Nothing to brag about there. After seeing our work in all its semi-finished glory, she wanted to be reminded of how far we’d come, so I dragged her up to my office and took her down memory lane with a slide show on my computer. Printed photos? So last century. Check out these pixels of dust, paneling and old carpeting. This is what this place used to look like.
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Dear reader, I’m going to take this opportunity to remind you of how far we’ve come in a year. Tyler and I closed on the old church just shy of a year ago, and the changes have been immense. So for the next 10 days or so, I’m going to take a break from the memoir-in-progress and tell the story in before-and-after photos. Whenever possible, I’ll try to use the same perspective in the “after” shot as I did long ago in the “before.”
Let’s begin with a look at the church as you drive up:
Tomorrow: Front door. See it here.
Our story so far: A far-flung friend I made back in my corporate days paid us a visit at the old Methodist church we turned into our home, and she likened the trip to a mecca.
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This friend who came from far away once worked with me on creative projects that sometimes required sketches to get her point across. When she made her pilgrimage to the church, she agreed to attend a local lecture by an inspiring junking couple who shared ideas on how to turn topless teapots into planters and old yard implements into décor. I hauled an old piece of the belfry—a curved piece of wood that had been part of the wheel to ring it—to the talk to get their advice on how we might repurpose it. One of their suggestions was as a headboard. Privately, I rejected this idea as unnecessary, but my friend took this bit of advice to bed with her; while sleeping in the guest room—right next to the belfry—she apparently dreamed a vision. The next morning, she presented me with a drawing of how we could turn this leftover piece of wood into a showplace headboard for the upstairs guest room. She even had an idea for incorporating a little bell into the headboard in tribute to the big bell in our belfry.
Inspired! The headboard we used up there was the one made for a king bed; it would need to be replaced. I filed her idea away for use later, when we had the time to work on such creative projects. It was not the first concept in the church that began as a sketch and flowered into something real and beautiful.
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Today’s headline is a quote from 19th century French artist Edgar Degas.
Tomorrow: Sister pays a visit as Chapter 44 opens. Read about it here.
Our story so far: We moved into the old Methodist church we had turned into a home and welcomed a few guests.
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Despite the minor inconveniences, visitors still came. A far-flung friend I made back in my corporate days paid us a visit, and she likened the church to a mecca (Mecca, for those interested in the origin of words, is the city where Muhammad was born; many Muslims believe it’s important to make a pilgrimage to Mecca at some point in their lives). My stories about the renovation stoked her curiosity, and she felt she had to see the church in person.
After the tour and my many comments about how much work this required and how we figured out that problem, she marveled, “How did you avoid killing each other?”
This was one of my concerns early on. Home construction projects have been known to end marital commitments.
“I guess I’m more flexible than some wives, and Tyler has better taste than some husbands,” I said.
As more than one of our contractors will attest, we raised our voices with each other more than once as we worked on various aspects of remodeling. Usually, one of us was just tired and cranky (sometimes both of us). But rarely did we disagree vehemently on the goals we wanted to achieve. Tyler was, among other things, an excellent salesman who could get me to see things his way, and I had figured out how to appeal to Tyler’s better instincts when the situation required. If he won the argument, well, then the results were probably better anyway.
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Today’s headline is a quote from Oliver Goldsmith, not to be confused with The Six Million Dollar Man‘s boss Oscar Goldman, you children of the ’70s. Goldsmith was an 18th century Irish novelist and poet.
Tomorrow: This friend gets inspired. Read about it here.
Our story so far: After we moved into the old Methodist church that became our home, we entertained a few early guests without the benefit of vanity mirrors or door handles or even some doors.
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Thankfully, our early guests tolerated these not-quite-finished touches. We did manage to install one finishing touch which, if it didn’t make things cozier, certainly made the guest bedroom safer: Railings.
When we purchased the church, the back stair was protected with not a railing, but a picket fence. Perhaps a clever reuse of suburban nostalgia, but it was not pretty. We couldn’t get rid of it fast enough, and during construction, we navigated the back stair without any railing at all.
To replace the fence, we relied on the same fabricator who did our balcony railing. The railing in the guest room was similar but without the basket spindles. Additionally, they made a coordinating handrail, also in basic black, for the stairway.
We also installed a short railing next to the two steps leading to the balcony to prevent anyone from getting out of bed and falling into the steps.
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Tomorrow: Marriage advice. Read it here.
Church Sweet Home 