at 6:47 in the morning i pulled back the covers and headed down stairs where i opened every window and immediately felt the cold air swoosh in. i sat right there in front of the window and took deep breathes and got goose bumps from the cold on my bare legs.
this house is a mess. we own two chairs and a few random pieces made by our dad or our granpa. there are still boxes here and there, nothing is on the walls except for a few patches of wallboard mud i've been working on. my voice still echoes when i talk because this is just a house. a mostly empty house.
i know that God is shaping and molding us all the time and there are lessons to be learned in just about everything. i know without a doubt this year the Lord was trying to show me the importance of roots. i don't know if its right to call anywhere home because the way i grew up, your home is where your family is. so technically mine is here, fifty minutes from here, asheville, lynchburg, and also florida. but my roots are most definitely in franklin tennessee now. and though i love travel and experiencing the new, the older i get the more i know i need the familiar as well. and i'll just throw the big millennial word out there: community. everyone needs that. people to be accountable to, grow from and be thankful with.
there are sunflowers in front of one of the houses across from mine. its so quiet here and there are big trees that stand far above the tops of the second stories. i have to walk to my mailbox and there is a gum-ball tree on the way. i live around the corner from a sweet friend, my favorite coffee shop and the biggest library. this is just a house.
but this is where i'm planted.