I am snuggled under the garage roof in my own little space, listening to rain fall. It is a gentle, tender rain without thunder or lightning. I have been packing and unpacking for what feels like a month, and if I'm not careful I'll trade in this post for a nap.
It isn't just the rain and the weariness, I've been longing for a place like this all my life, and the rest that has come with it is both overdue and overpowering. I'm pushing myself to stay focused on the other parts of the house, but every little thing adds up. Last night I hung up a red birdhouse on the window above my desk. I hunted up my Pieta statuette and put it in a place of honor. This morning I rearranged the furniture and and cut the shrink wrap off. All of these actions rewarded me with the energy to do a little more.
The more was to take time and pray. Pray without the pressure of hurrying done before kids woke up and the day needed me. For just that necessary ease that space can give, I was able to get back to a prayer routine I was sorely missing. It's important to persist in our spiritual disciplines in order to reap the rewards of knowing God better, but I am beginning to understand when this or that becomes difficult it may be that God is opening the door for greater growth through change.
I didn't want to move here, but I'm discovering many good things I couldn't have had without moving, including this room of my own.
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