I think this is the most personal space I’ve had since before the Race.
I got a bed yesterday, a big, old queen with new, white bedding. It’s balanced on risers so when I wake up, I’ll see the fog rolling in over the lake.
It’s crazy to even write about it. For the first time in over almost two years, my life can’t be packed up in my car and moved across the country. This bed makes everything more permanent. It feels like roots.
I spent some time just praying over the space before I went to sleep last night, annointing the doors and windows and the bed itself. I’ve been having trouble with dreams lately. I don’t want that to carry over into this bed, this Selah space. I cried–not sad, but thankful for a place that is mine in the best way.
I feel like I can breathe. I feel like a grownup in this queen size bed, adrift in an ocean of white and yet anchored by these bedposts.
I want this to be a place where I can breathe and be at peace. I want to think of an island in that kind of soft, romantic way that I think of really beautiful, secluded beaches and other places where I find the LORD easily.
I want to wake up every morning to windows thrown wide and curtains open to the sunrise. I want to feel the same sense of quiet and stillness that I felt this morning. I want to make tea at at the table by the window and crawl back beneath my covers to meet the LORD for a long breath before everything begins.
This has been the ache in my heart for months–too have a Selah space, somewhere beautiful and mine.
And the LORD has given it to me. It’s something so small, but something that just makes all the difference to my heart.