Let me address the weary wanderer, of which I fall into such category of late. Let me address those moments when the road does not fork or allow rest but simply ceases to be there, drops off entirely. Let me tell you that there are times, seasons such as this when the road becomes missing, either because grief is so great or unrest so great or confusion so great or so many great things as these. For some reason, the mind is overwhelmed, the heart if overfilled and the strength is oversapped. Immediately, while traveling down this road you look and the road has disappeared. It is a moment filled with gripping passions and intense feelings of loss and hopelessness. Sadness and despondency. Confusion and just really really deep pain. Does this make one believe in God less? Is faith at some low point? I say absolutely not. For God is a precious and perfect God of the journey and sometimes the road has to drop out for us to see something. Some thing is put in place of the road. It is not a road at all any longer. Instead, during this times of insecurity, what you need is a great big bear rug to wrap up in. And you look and don’t see a way to go, sometimes you can look again and before you is placed the coziest, warmest, most luxurious bear rug in the world to cuddle up in, warmed by the fire of God’s love and given as a gift to let you know that God’s got you in the midst of this owie, thie traumatic thing. Nothing is bigger than His security, perfect care and loving provision. And your job then is not to figure it out but wrap up in it and take a deep rest, drinking in deep and holding on tight. There is more to life than the road taking you somewhere. Sometimes you just need to be.
This room has been my slumber center, my shut eye headquarters, and when Kathleen was newborn, my attempted sleep spot. My bedroom is my sanctuary, a child free zone (or so was the plan), a respite from noise and toys in the rest of the house. And it has served me well in this role. However, the medium dark antique green that adorned the walls felt as if the walls were starting to come in a bit and as pretty as the color was, change was desperately needed. So comes the choices, which color do you choose? I wanted peaceful, first and foremost, and cozy. I wanted that same feeling from the beach motel recently visited. But do you go sunny yellow or warm sand or water blue or even a soft orange? And for once in my life I did not tie in this room’s color with the rest of the house, in warm hues. I opted to refresh and change and sought a little welcomed advice and voila, Mystic Sea, a very light sea foam greenesque color with a hint of blue. Immediately, the room feels bigger, the ceiling higher, the peace and freshness of the beach is here. It is truly amazing what a change color makes. White or eggshell paint has no place in my home except maybe the trim. Love lives here, life, a story. I want to enjoyy my hhome,create a welcoming cozy atmosphere my kids and their kids will love coming home to. A home is colorful because we who live here are such as well and it should reflect us. So don’t be afraid to do something different. You can always repaint it, half the fun. 🙂 And a little paint is the best, easiest and most economical way to transform your home into an art piece. I am so glad for the change!