Augusta JAMES 

Member, CASSON 

 

The first thing Amara noticed when she visited Nneka was the house. The curtains matched the chairs. The floors shone. Every room seemed to have a purpose. There was a beautiful kitchen, a children’s room, and a small study room filled with books. “Your house is lovely,” Amara said. Nneka smiled. “We are still working on it.” Amara wondered what was left to work on. “Everything is looking beautiful and perfect already,” she said.

 

That evening, when Amara returned to her own room, everything suddenly looked wrong. The faded walls. The old curtains. The books scattered across her table. The sewing machine she had bought months earlier but had barely learned to use. She looked around and sighed. “Look at my life.” For several days, she could not stop thinking about Nneka’s house. She began to see her own unfinished plans as proof that she was not doing well.

 

Then one Saturday morning, she sat beside the sewing machine. She had bought it because she wanted to learn a skill and earn extra income. But learning had been difficult, and she had almost given up. She picked up the thread and tried again. The first attempt failed. The second was worse. By the third attempt, she managed to sew a straight line. She felt happy. It was small progress, but she smiled. That was when she began looking around her room differently again. The books were there because she was still studying. The sewing machine was there because she was still learning. The empty spaces were not proof that her life had failed. They were reminders that her story was still unfolding.

 

Sometimes, we look at another person’s finished rooms and become ashamed of our unfinished ones. We see the marriage, but not the years of waiting. We see the successful business, but not the failed attempts. We see the confidence, but not the private battles. We see what has been completed and compare it with what is still under construction in our own lives. And slowly, we begin to despise our lives. We forget that people do not arrive at the same destination through the same road. Some are building with more support. Some are recovering from things no one knows about. Some are starting again. Others are still trying to discover what they truly want.

 

An unfinished room does not mean the house has no value. Perhaps the room is empty because its time has not come. It is untidy because important work is happening inside it. Perhaps it is waiting for resources, courage, healing, or simply patience. A life can be incomplete and still be meaningful. It can be uncertain and still be moving forward.

 

So, while admiring the beauty of another person’s house, we can learn to return to our own without shame, remembering that our journey is gently and beautifully unfolding. Yes, there is still work to do. There are still rooms to arrange. There are still dreams to build. Not every unfinished room is a sign of failure. Some are simply waiting for the right season, the necessary courage, and a little more work. Perhaps, then, we can trust the process a

little more and remember that there is beauty even in what is still unfolding.

 

~The Augusta Effect