I wrote this on an old blog almost exactly ten years ago. Looking it over, I don’t see any reason to force my older self to add commentary to it, even though it’s so short (I wasn’t a blogger by trade back then so I didn’t pay attention to word count!).
Here you go . . . my thoughts on “a home of my own!”
I want a home of my own. I really want a home of my own. Though I am content and happy, and I’d rather live here at home than anywhere in the world, I want a home of my own.
Sometimes my desire is just that natural desire every woman possesses. Sometimes it’s because I want to run a house my way. Sometimes I am lonely, and want a friend and companion who belongs to me more than he belongs to anyone else. Sometimes I have had an encounter with one of my mother’s threadbare dishtowels, which she will not throw away!
I have long known it is my duty to be faithful where I am, to take up the duties that present themselves to me now rather than just longing for something else in the future. I learned that as a teenager and have been reminding myself of it ever since. The other day I opened my Bible and my eyes fell on this verse–and only this verse–and it drove the nail of realization in even deeper.
And if ye have not been faithful
in that which is another man’’s,
who shall give you that which is your own?
P.S. My mother is not a packrat. She just likes to get all the use possible out of a dish towel. 😉 I like to turn them into “cleaning rags” a little sooner than she does. Now I just ask for permission when I think it’s time. Problem solved!