After a year of using the cups, plates, dishes, and space of others, we are using our own things again. Maybe this means nothing... or maybe this means everything. All I know is that yesterday my wife got to break out our stuff and this morning we ate off of it for breakfast.
Having your own space seems kind of selfish in a world with so many needs, and yet it feels "right" somehow. I don't know how to describe it, other than those times when you come back from a trip and you get to sleep in your own bed or take a shower in the bathtub you're familiar with. I'm even getting to learn more and more about the street we live on... like the different people who live on it as well as the Mormons who frequent the area (and as a side note, they stopped by on moving day and we had a little "chat").
We still have a lot to set up, and yet that's okay because it's an area of ownership for us. To clarify, though, before we walked in as a family on Saturday morning we all touched the door handle and prayed together. In our prayer we thanked God for this place to live and asked him to help us to use it for his glory so that others might feel welcome. As it turns out when we had to leave on Saturday afternoon to go to my graduation (which I'll write more on later), we had some friends hanging out and playing cards in the midst of our boxes.
Like I said... feels "right" for some reason. Hmm...
"In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you." (John 14:2)