Marveling

I am sitting in my room, and the bags are all unpacked. Two weeks ago, I frantically took a large stack of books out of the assorted luggage in order to make weight, but now they are here, too, safely shelved with their comrades. I have my own dresser, my own bed, my own desk, and my own closet. Looking around the bare white walls soon to be filled with pictures, I am glad. This is my room, my refuge.

The past two weeks since moving to Wisconsin have been a time of marveling. This morning I marveled at the snow that snuck over the world outside while I slept, making everything magical and clean. Later, after a phone call from St. Arbucks, I marveled that I actually have a job now. And in the afternoon, I marveled that a church I don't attend is allowing me to practice on their piano every day.

I even marveled when I cleaned the toilet.

Yes, I know. That may sound strange. When you've cleaned the amount of toilets I have, though, there is something settling about the process of scrubbing all of that nastiness off the white porcelain. Cleaning the toilet for the first time since moving here made me feel settled in a way that doing the dishes and unpacking my clothes didn't. Honestly, cleaning the toilet made me feel at home.

I marvel that I can feel at home again, that God and I can build a place where I fit in some way. I was scared to come here, scared to do something completely different than what I had planned. Every day brings a new marvel, though, and I am finding I can enjoy the marveling while clinging to the Rock that is higher than I.