making a house

Some people I know are excellent at arriving somewhere, immediately emptying out all of their suitcases and within a few hours, making a space a home.

Hol, my Mongolia roommate, is one of those people. She hadn't been in D.C. for longer than a few hours and she was texting me pictures of her completely unpacked and decorated bedroom.

I, on the other hand, had already been in Omaha for a week and was still living out of my suitcases.

For me, a home is less about things being organized or put away or decorated and more about familiarity. It is about etching out time in the spaces. I need time to claim those spaces as mine. I need time to let them become comfortable and known.

and so I lived out of suitcases for awhile (exactly what they tell you not to do in missionary training by the way).

and I was blessed with the gift of being able to do that because my co-workers and the church that is sharing this space with me were gracious enough to grant me an abundant supply of things I needed.

like a bed and sheets. like living room furniture. like a pile of craft supplies. like pots and pans. like milk and bread and eggs.

and then, slowly but surely, I unpacked the suitcases. I lived in the transitory phase of things being a disordered mess. I walked over small mountains of random things and bumped into new-to-me furniture. I wondered at the blessing of being given a parsonage, a space that feels way too large for just me.

I bought a hammer and nails. I went to Lowe's and Target. I printed pictures and measured and hammered and jumped up and down in self-congratulation when I hung things in a relatively straight manner.

On Good Friday I grew tired of the mess. I scrubbed and wiped and swept and mopped. I cleaned what had already been cleaned before me but now needed to be cleaned by me. Because this needs to be my space. Because I need to know these corners and crevasses and floorboards. Because familiarity is a process and not a moment.

I put things in their places and I hung up artwork and I organized the office that had become a dumping ground for miscellaneous things.

And when I was done, it felt like maybe I live here.

come visit me. there's lots more room I don't know what to do with. I'd love to fill it with the presence of some friends.