My Perfect Life

I’m sitting in one of my two favorite spots for “me time”. The chair. The overstuffed, enlarged, papa san chair. Drinking the first round of hot tea with my warm fleece draped over my lap. Perfect. I look through the open doorway of my bedroom, to the living room. Clean. Everything is clean. Selah. Nothing like having out of town guests to motivate one to scrub from top to bottom. I drink in the green paint on the walls with every sip of tea. I am blessed. Draped in my long john shirt, plaid pj bottoms and thick, winter socks. I don’t care it’s only Fall. It feels like Winter to me. I think about how far I’ve come to get here. The road I’ve traveled to end up in this chair. In this cozy apartment. All to myself. A spare bedroom seemingly only for visitors as my attempts at a live-in roommate were blocked at every turn. God knew what I needed. He always does. I need to appreciate the quiet healing of this season. I don’t know how long it will last. I only know I need it. Because He designated it, so it must be needed.

Life is far from perfect. It is never perfect. It hasn’t been perfect since the fall of mankind contrary to what social media leads one to believe. But there is restoration. There is gratefulness and healing and joy in the midst of sorrow. There are renewed friendships, kindled by the fire of Holy Spirit. Absentee parents who are now doing a stellar job at parenting. Invitations to parties and celebrations every month are the redemption of a broken and lonely childhood. The faithfulness of a God who sees all and has good things for His kids. Selah.

My music is playing. My pumpkin spice candle is burning. And I am blessed. I journal, I read, I text friends who are near and dear to me. I even call them because they need to hear my voice. And maybe, just maybe, my introverted self needs to hear theirs. But I stay at rest b/c I sense that this is the time. This is the season. This is a part of His plan that I watch curiously unfolding before me.

I am told by my spiritual father that my writing will be a platform. I wonder at that. What will God do with my story? What is my story? Thus far it has shown His faithfulness. His path has led me to this chair. To this beauty. To His desire.

SHALOM

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