I think about my little cabin/shed all the time. Although this is a tough time across the nations, and not an easy time to birth a dream, I remain hopeful. Perhaps closed doors will bring beautiful, open windows.
Today I online shopped heirloom roses and plump love seats, dreaming of having both nearby. I can hardly wait for a place of my own again. I've felt so anchor-less since Freeman House, you know? Just thinking of owning a place again, however small and humble, brings such excitement and contentment to my heart.
(Stuff aside, we will see Your goodness in the land of the living, God. Cabins, couches and roses are sweet, but Your love sustains and lasts. Thanks for understanding our need for a forever home... our need for constant beauty. Until You bring both, our hearts yearn....)
I guess where some find their home and their strength in people - loved ones, I suppose- mine has always come from a sense of place. I told God just now that I'm sorry, and need help driving the tent pegs of my heart at the feet of the unchangeable Man instead of changeable circumstances. I'm working on it. It's a process.
Over this past and coming week, I'm packing up the small house and awaiting the time I can call for the cabin. I'm still a few dollars short from paying the delivery fee, but am scheming and selling with the best of desperate girls everywhere. Where there's a will, there is always a way.
Here's to those closed doors, and our hope for beautiful windows instead. Love- Brin
