I moved into my new apartment earlier this week with the help of a few good people, and four days later, I’m still marveling at the place I’ve been given. It is the answer to many whispered prayers long forgotten. I halfheartedly stated a year ago that I didn’t want to live with another roommate until I got married, and that I never wanted to live in a garden-level or underneath anyone else in an apartment again.
And here I am, sitting in my apartment on the third floor, watching the snow fall while I drink a cup of tea and write this post. I wouldn’t have complained about having another roommate or living on the ground floor. I wouldn’t have complained about a room the size of a closet. I didn’t even know He was listening when I said those things. But I am again convinced that He is more concerned with the littlest desires of our hearts than we let ourselves be. If there’s anything the last few months taught me, it is that.
I spent the week between my old lease and my new lease at an old friend’s house. There are six people who live there, four of whom are married couples. For the introvert who has fantasized about living alone her entire life, that just sounded like the worst situation. Yet where I expected chaos, I was met with peace. Where I expected clutter, I found a comfortable orderliness. Where I expected to feel caged and overwhelmed, I found myself breathing easy. I found room to breathe, to replenish what was depleted, to rest, to be.
When I envision myself as a woman well advanced in years, I see myself as that house. Spacious, welcoming, light. I see a woman at peace at her very core, one in whose presence you find yourself breathing deeply and resting easy. There’s no comparison or striving; no derision or judgment. You’re given permission to be who you are, and you’re loved where you are. You’re free to break and mend, to laugh and mourn, to feel all your feelings and think all your thoughts.
I feel so incredibly blessed to have this space of my own – to stretch out, to breathe, to be me in every single room. It is a gift of which I feel undeserving, and so I’m giving it away in the same measure. I want this place – already lovingly dubbed “The Breathing Space” – to mirror the Remington Family House, and the woman I’m becoming. I want it to be a place of light and joy, of intentional relationships and unrestrained love, of hope and peace. I am a steward of the gift; I refuse to hoard it. So if you’re ever in need of a place to stay around the Denver area, my home is yours (within the boundaries of good sense and safety, of course).
Come breathe a while – there’s room for you here.