When we first turned the key to our charming but timeworn home, with its sloping floors and crown molding telling stories of decades past, little did we know we were stepping into our own version of Eden. Like Adam being placed in that first garden, we found ourselves in a space full of both beauty and responsibility—a place that would teach us profound lessons about boundaries, stewardship, partnership, and the moral order that governs our lives.
The Garden We Were Given
"The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it." (Genesis 2:15)
Our home, like Eden, wasn't perfect but was filled with potential. That first night, sitting on our mattress on the floor eating takeout pizza, we surveyed our new domain—peeling wallpaper in the dining room, floors that announced every footstep, and outdated fixtures waiting for our touch. Just as Adam was placed in Eden with the responsibility to tend it, we were now the caretakers of this space, entrusted with its transformation.
The parallel struck me deeply: this house wasn't just a property we owned; it was a responsibility we had accepted. Like the first humans in that ancient garden, we were called not merely to exist in this space but to work it, improve it, and help it flourish.
The Trees in Our Garden: Learning About Boundaries
In Eden, God set a clear boundary—every tree was available except one. This wasn't about restriction but about creating a framework within which true freedom could flourish. Our renovation journey taught us a similar lesson about the necessity of boundaries.
We quickly discovered our limitations. Our budget couldn't stretch to replace everything at once. Our skills had definite edges—I'll never forget the bathroom "flood of '22" when we thought replacing a faucet would be "just a quick weekend project." The house itself had structural boundaries we needed to respect, from load-bearing walls to the quirks of century-old plumbing.
These boundaries weren't obstacles to our freedom; they were the very framework that gave meaning to our choices. Working within these limits forced us to prioritize, to make thoughtful decisions, and ultimately to create a more intentional home. Just as Eden's boundary wasn't arbitrary but purposeful, our renovation boundaries helped shape our path forward.
The First Commission: Embracing Responsibility
"Adam is placed in the garden 'to work it and keep it,' emphasizing humanity's role as caretakers of creation."
The overwhelming to-do list that required its own dedicated notebook became our daily commission. Each task—stripping five layers of wallpaper to reveal hidden plaster details, fixing the temperamental hot water heater, repainting the bedroom three times to get that perfect shade—was an exercise in responsibility.
Like Adam tending Eden, we discovered that meaning doesn't come from avoiding work but from embracing it. There's a profound satisfaction in rolling up your sleeves and transforming a space with your own hands. Each project completed, from the repaired bathroom door that finally closed properly to the garden beds we carved out of overgrown wilderness, became a testament to our care.
We learned what the Garden story teaches: responsibility isn't a burden—it's the path to purpose. The effort of maintaining and improving our home wasn't separate from enjoying it; the work itself became a source of deep fulfillment.
"It Is Not Good for Man to Be Alone": The Power of Partnership
The creation of Eve in the Eden story highlights the fundamental human need for connection and partnership. Our renovation journey would have been impossible—or at least unbearably difficult—without having someone to share it with.
Some days we were a dynamic duo, creating playlists to keep us motivated while painting side by side. Other days brought tense standoffs in Home Depot, both of us tired and covered in sawdust, unable to agree on cabinet hardware. Through it all, we discovered the strength that comes from complementary abilities—my vision for spaces balanced by my partner's technical know-how.
Like Adam's exclamation about Eve being "bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh," we developed a deeper bond through the shared challenges. The late nights completing projects, the celebrations over small victories, and even the arguments about design choices brought us closer together. Our home became a physical manifestation of our partnership—neither of us could have created it alone.
Moral Framework: Finding Guidance Beyond Ourselves
The Eden story suggests that morality isn't self-defined but derived from a higher wisdom. Similarly, our renovation taught us humility about our own knowledge. YouTube tutorials could only take us so far.
We learned (sometimes the hard way) to seek guidance from those with more experience—whether professionals we hired for complex electrical work or the elderly neighbor who shared insights about the house's history and quirks. There was wisdom beyond our own understanding that helped shape our decisions.
Even our aesthetic choices benefited from looking beyond ourselves. We researched the home's architectural period, learning what elements would honor its heritage while making it functional for modern living. By acknowledging that we weren't the ultimate arbiters of what was "right" for this house, we made better decisions that respected both its past and our future in it.
Living in Our Own Eden: The Ongoing Journey
Now, when I walk through our home, I see more than just rooms we've renovated. I see the physical manifestation of boundaries respected, responsibilities embraced, partnership strengthened, and wisdom sought beyond ourselves.
Our house, like Eden, remains a place of both beauty and responsibility. The garden we've planted needs constant tending. The old windows still require seasonal maintenance. The kitchen we renovated hosts family gatherings where relationships deepen. It's not a static paradise but a living space that continues to require our care and continues to shape us in return.
The window seat we built in the living room—now our favorite reading nook—reminds me daily of the Eden story's enduring truth: we find our greatest fulfillment not in unlimited freedom or in avoiding responsibility, but in embracing our role as caretakers. We discover joy not in independence but in meaningful connection. And we find wisdom not by relying solely on our own understanding but by seeking guidance from something greater.
Our home renovation journey, like the Garden of Eden story, reminds us that true freedom comes not from the absence of boundaries but from living purposefully within them. Our little Tudor may not be paradise, but in creating our own garden—quirks, creaks, and all—we've discovered what it means to truly be home.