I've Got a Garret (and other thoughts from this past week)

After a full week of living in this house, it finally happened; I woke up this morning to rain on the roof. Now, rain on the roof in a normal room is a wonderful thing on its own, but, dear reader, I don't have a normal room in my new home; I have a garret. At its highest point, the ceiling in my little garret is 6 inches above my head, and it slopes down to about three feet one side of room, and four on the other. The door-frame is of such a height that when I stand at full stature in it, the lintel presses down gently on my head. There's a solitary window at the gable (not green, sorry!) that overlooks the porch roof and street. In short, this room is just my size, fitting not only my body (which favors small, cozy spaces) but my spirit as well.
I've long loved the idea of a garret room, having fed on Little Women as a girl.  Jo's garret is her place of inspiration, and of refuge--the place she runs to to scribble away on her manuscript and escape her troubles alike. It is my highest hope that my own little garret room will be the same to me.

In the past week, I've been settling in to both my new living situation and my new job, and there's one thing I keep telling myself. I remind myself of the non-transience of this new situation. Yes, nothing is forever, and nothing is permanent, but compared to the past four years of college, where I knew the expiration date was steadily approaching, this is for-good, till God leads me elsewhere. I tell myself that I need to let that knowledge shape me as I settle here, from the little things like buying real bookshelves, instead of making do some ghetto-college-kid fix, and putting the flour and sugar in canisters instead of leaving the bags rolled up in the pantry, to big things like pushing myself to actively involve myself in a church even when I'm exhausted from a long first week. This is life now. I want to live it fully engaged, like a whole human being.

 This looks like not hitting snooze on my 6 am alarm, and eating breakfast for real. It's learning to balance work and life, because 1 week in, I already find myself bringing work home with me in my mind. (Lets just say I woke up at 2 a.m. the other morning stressed about planning a future program that isn't even on my timeline yet).
It's recognizing that I have this wonderful opportunity to do and be anything and anyone right now, so I should just do it.

I'm looking forward to the times of refuge I'll spend in this room, like right now as I sit here in Lucy Maud, writing and listening to the rain mixed with Thomas Newman's heartstirring strings. I'm looking forward to the Becoming that awaits me in these next few weeks, and months... and years.  I'm looking forward to living the life abundant that God has planned for me.

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