There’s a cozy chair in a corner of the loft upstairs. It’s surrounded by clutter, all the miscellaneous items that survived the move but haven’t quite found their place in our home yet.
I don’t like being in the midst of the disorganized. I like clean and structured and everything put away. Yet in this season, I find comfort here, sitting in the mess. Wedding flowers, craft supplies, beloved clothes that don’t feel like me anymore. This is where I like to write, reflecting on items that once held so much value, now piled up waiting for their new storage assignment.
There’s comfort in my environment mirroring the chaos of my thoughts. Newly married, amid one transition after another, life going so fast I haven’t been able to process it all.
I feel change approaching, but I’m unsure what God is doing. I know he’s given me gifts and has taught me things I’m supposed to use, but I don’t know what to do with them next.
I’m trying to become hopeful again, even after disappointment. It’s so easy to replay those on a loop— the “what if” and the “why didn’t I” and the “I wish I had.”
I’m trying to release control and trust God, here. I can’t stay still and not take any steps forward, but I can’t overthink and calculate my way ahead. It’s a recipe of grace.
I don’t know where to put all of it— the boxes, the unanswered questions, the memories, the ideas. But for now I’m starting to think that’s okay. I’m starting to think there’s something I need to learn here, just sitting in the mess.
