A Floor Laid in Faith
Today, I finished putting in the floor coverings.
And I don’t say that lightly — because this wasn’t just a floor. It was a reclaiming.
I pulled all the basement floor insulation and sublayer out of the yurt and laid it carefully into the A-frame, sealing the plywood sheathing beneath. Piece by piece, the house felt tighter, warmer, more finished. Like it was finally beginning to hold itself together.
Then came the part that surprised even me.
I took the leftover plywood sheets from the roof — good one-side pine — and cut them down into hundreds of strips. Four feet long. Two inches wide. Just narrow enough to resemble hardwood planks. What started as scraps became possibility.
I laid them meticulously across the underlayer, squeezing each board into place and nailing every strip down at least five times. It was slow, methodical work — the kind that makes you lose track of time. The kind where you feel fully present.
Jaime would have loved this part.
Any excuse to use the nail gun.
Once everything was fastened, I swept the floor clean and began varnishing. There are still four more coats to go — sanding between each one — before it’s fully sealed and glass-smooth. But even now, it already looks incredible.
So good, in fact, that I don’t want to put the carpets back on top.
I stood there for a long time just looking at it, honestly impressed by how beautiful it turned out. Not because it’s perfect — but because it’s ours. Built by hand. Thought through. Paid for not with money, but with patience.
I never thought I’d have “hardwood” floors in this house. And certainly not at a fraction of the cost.
God has blessed me — not just with provision, but with the ability to see value where others might only see leftovers. To build something solid out of what was already given.
“Unless the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it.”
— Psalm 127:1 (KJV)
This floor will hold muddy boots, bare feet, late-night talks, and children running through the house.
And every board reminds me that faith, like a home, is built one careful piece at a time.
What is laid with intention will last.