Ordinary Home: Antique treasures that bring charm to my 1970s home

A series that invites you cordially into our home

our little abode <3

This is the “Ordinary Home” series: posts that invite you into our ordinary home, celebrating the simple joys of intentional homemaking.

After a much deeper theological post last week, I’m excited to balance it out with some lighter but meaningful topics: homemaking and antiques!

A large desire when launching Radicalis was to share my love of homemaking: organization, *slow* decorating, decluttering & simplifying, and a love for antiquing and thrifting. These are habits I have pursued in earnest for several years to create a home that reflects our family culture and domestic church.

In the “Ordinary Home” series, I want to share photos and real-life snapshots of our very ordinary, very loved home. Although there are no Instagram-worthy spaces here (looking too hard would reveal sloppy paint jobs in every room from previous owners), the gravity and pleasure of cultivating a sacred domestic space is something I continue to experience only more intensely as the months and years go on.

The House

(See the main image at the top of the post)

First, meet my house: not old enough to be antique, but definitely vintage. It’s a long and narrow yellow brick-and-vinyl split-level home built in 1970. And although it has a garden-level basement, the four of us spend 95% of our time living in the 900 sq ft upstairs.

We have a large front and backyard, which is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing to have such ample space for our toddlers to run around, but also a curse, as we have found the outside to be overwhelming to maintain. When we bought the house, we inherited a landscape of dirt that had been allowed to grow wild, with piles of dog poop from the previous owners that took hours to clean up -thank you, Dad!

please forgive poor photo quality

Walking through the front door leads to an impossibly small landing and two sets of stairs leading up and down. The landing is so small that a diagonal cut has been made through the bottom wood stair so the front door can actually open all the way. When I greet visitors, I have to climb back up two or three stairs to avoid standing nose-to-nose as they take a step inside.

It is quirky, 53 years old, with weird plumbing, a sketchy unfinished laundry room, popcorn ceilings, weeds the height of my toddler, and absolutely no “open concept” to speak of. The phrase “en suite” makes me want to cry. The whole family shares a 5 x 6.5 ft bathroom down the hall.

But it also has ample space for our garden. Hardwood floors. French doors. A double oven. Four bedrooms. A mailbox at the end of the driveway. A charming brick wall on one side of the basement. And such small closets that I have been forced to minimize in extremely helpful ways.

And it is our house, a blessing despite all the ways I could consider it “imperfect.” So the challenge to make it a home began.

Let’s talk about antiques.

The antique marketplace

We live 23 minutes from an enormous antique marketplace. You would never be able to tell driving past that it houses an absolute maze of booths and antiques and estate hauls. I regularly get lost.

This marketplace has provided treasures for our home that are both beautiful and practical: despite my love for antique stores and thrift shops, I strongly dislike trinkets, knick knacks, and non-practical decor (unless it’s green and leafy, religious, bookish, or a family photo). I have found that leaning more minimalist really helps filter out the junk when I go shopping.

Because there is a lot of junk. Mountains of junk and trinkets and collections that no one wanted to inherit from their great aunt Martha. As someone who hates visual clutter, you’d think an antique marketplace would be my worst nightmare. But I’m also an old, old soul at heart. And I know there are hidden treasures just waiting for a second life.

Here are of some of my favorite finds, and the stories behind each piece:

My desk

Two moves ago, my previous desk fell apart en route. I was thrilled. It was finally time to begin my search for my dream antique roll-top desk.

We drove to the marketplace and asked to see any roll-top desks. The employee walked us through every dizzying corner of the building, pointing out the selection they had.

My eyes immediately caught this beauty. It's not a roll-top, but it had all the carving detail, tiny drawers, and charm that my little old-fashioned heart wanted. And a built-in bookshelf?! Sold.

We had the desk delivered, and now it organizes my stationery, planner, writing utensils, office supplies, and my Nancy Drew and Agatha Christie book collections. It is my favorite piece of furniture in the house.

My bookshelves

with a glimpse of my French doors

These were a spontaneous purchase while on another hunt at the marketplace. I saw them and immediately called my husband, asking if we could drop the money for two gorgeous bookshelves. He agreed, then had to go in his pickup truck to haul them home in the rain.

The bookshelves live where our TV would be, if we had one. Instead, I've taken great joy in decorating that space with my carefully collected volumes. They are the first things your eyes catch when you walk up the stairs into our home, and they represent our literary family culture.

Decorating bookshelves is an art I'll discuss in another post.

My dresser

I originally discovered this delightful dresser on Facebook Marketplace, but realized it was an advertisement for a booth at the antique marketplace. Typical.

I didn’t realize until we brought it home that the piece is actually a deep, deep blue. In most lighting, it looks black. But I have resigned myself to this quirk, since designing your home with antiques naturally creates a more eclectic look no matter what.

How many shades of wood can you own? Turns out, a lot.

I think my favorite part is the two tiny drawers at the top. You wouldn’t believe how handy that little extra space has been for organizing items like my husband’s belts and pocket knife collection.

My cast iron Dutch oven + rolling pin

When I first found this 100% pure cast iron Dutch oven (no enamel here!) in the antique marketplace, in the first weeks of my foray into baking homemade sourdough boules, I almost bought it. But I left it behind.

I drove back two weeks later with a desperate hope that it still remained, then spent a frustrating amount of time getting lost as I struggled to find the booth again.

I eventually found it sitting alone and unwanted on the ground, and happily lugged the heavy brute home. It has baked sourdough boules, pot roasts, countless cozy soups, and roasted my first whole chicken. I call it my kitchen workhorse, withstanding 500 degrees and the hardest metal utensils without any hint of damage or wear. Dropping it would break the tile floor before it sustained a scratch. I’m pretty sure I could store my important documents in it in case of a house fire.

Its only weakness is moisture and rust, and even that can be fixed.

I have an uncanny affection for this little black pot.

my first batch of rosemary sourdough crackers

This rolling pin was actually a gift from a dear friend. One day she took out her collection of antique rolling pins and handed the basket to me, telling me to pick one I liked.

I chose this one, with smooth wood and gorgeous green handles. No dough sticks to it, and it rolls effortlessly. The sheer beauty and quality of this old rolling pin has encouraged me to attempt my first homemade pizza, sourdough crackers, and even a galette (think “rustic French pie”).

My home altar

peek the very aesthetic printer cord

Confession: this charming wooden side table first lived next to our couch. But as I continued to simplify and simplify our main living area (it’s a very small living area, we don't even have a coffee table), I eventually removed it.

It now lives downstairs as our home altar. The bottom shelf houses religious texts and a basket full of simple decorations for each liturgical season. For example, the green altar cloth and greenery indicate Ordinary Time.

The top of the altar displays our blessed candle, the Bible I gave my husband when he was confirmed Catholic, a statue of the Blessed Mother, and a memorial tribute to the baby we lost to miscarriage: our precious Baby Evie.

The white baby gate functions as both a barrier to curious toddler hands and an altar rail, of sorts. I consider that a happy accident.

A temporary home

A large part of living radically has included the creativity of tending to my family’s place of earthly roots: our home. Although I believe that

“the world is thy ship, not thy home” -St. Therese of Lisieux

I have found that the beauty of keeping a temporary home in this life gives my soul a way to express the universal human yearning for an eternal home. We were not created to be continually uprooted. Not forever, anyway.

In John chapter 14, Jesus tells his disciples during the Last Supper

In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you?

And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be. (John 14: 2-3)

In other translations of Scripture, the phrase “dwelling places” is translated as “mansion.” “In my Father’s house are many mansions.” Our modern minds and vocabulary pictures Heaven filled with overwhelmingly large, luxurious houses.

But an older, etymological origin of “mansion” comes from the Latin “manere,” which means to remain or abide. Another Old French origin translates to stay or permanent abode.

In our Father’s house are permanent abodes: a home where we are to remain forever, rooted and radical and eternally in perfect communion with Truth, Beauty, and Goodness Himself.

As I cultivate my earthly home down here, I try to remember that my actions actually reflect the work of God, the original and perfect Homemaker. Because He has already prepared an eternal Home for me.

“…now they desire a better homeland, a heavenly one. Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.” (Hebrews 11: 16)

What would you like to see next?

And with that in mind, I want to know: what would you like to see next in this series? How I organize our kitchen? Our small closets? Our toys? A tour of our living areas? Leave a comment telling me which area of homemaking you’d like to see, and let’s have some old-fashioned fun.

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Go deeper…

Read a brief article about the context behind St. Therese’s oft-quoted phrase: “the world is thy ship, not thy home.” Did you know she was actually misquoting a poem her father taught her?