Someone walked into my apartment this morning and commented on how peaceful it felt.
Um.
That has definitely not been how it's felt to me, lately. I mean, unless peaceful is just managing not to scream, "stop screwing around and go to the damn potty!" That's not really my definition.
But lately my prayer has been that wherever we live, it's as welcoming as possible to as many people as possible. It's how I'm (sort of) coming to terms with a few more years in a beige, cat-ravaged apartment. For years and years, I used to joke (not joking) that all I wanted in a home was a ballroom and a library. Most of our bookshelves are in the basement right now (because they make such tempting ladders), and beige carpet does not a dance floor make.
But.
In our homely little development, we have neighbors from all over. Neighbors who wear hijab, and neighbors who grill very tasty smelling meats. The kids play football in the huge field behind Sam's room. I will always know people with PhDs and fancy jobs, but here I learn about what manufacturing jobs entail. As much as I want my own charming little home, I can't imagine being more accessible to more people. And when different people all come to my drab little domicile, they meet other people they might not meet otherwise. (And for sure no one feels intimidated by the space.)
It's not where I want to be, but it sure functions how I want it to function.
So: prayers for my home, please. That it grow in warmth and peace and security. And maybe one day, in aesthetics.
And how about you? What's rattling through your brain when you wake at 3 a.m.? What are you thinking about when you're driving? What can I be taking to God for you?
The Feast Day of Santa Lucia
23 hours ago