Complication and Contentment
My first place was a two-bedroom apartment with a little porch that overlooked the lush green of Richmond, Virginia. I was a single mom of a curious two-year-old, so an apartment on the third floor added an extra layer of complication to my coming and going, but I preferred the inconvenience over the sound of neighbors above me. The washer and dryer were in the kitchen, which I didn’t mind because it gave me extra counter space, and my bedroom was in direct view of the front door. I quickly developed the habit of making my bed.
After tucking my daughter in one of those first nights, I cozied into the second-hand love seat and surveyed my eight hundred square feet of independence. My furniture was an amalgamation of thrift store pieces and gifts from church people—a velour love seat the color of honey, four chairs with wicker backs and a dinner table, a black and white TV, and a chair in the corner with a too-deep seat and no armrests. A side table with screw-in legs was the only brand-new piece, a ten-dollar find from Walmart that I’d decorated with mirrored tiles to give it some charm. Pictures were hung, thanks to the hammer and nails Grandpa had packed for me—because “no woman should live on her own without a toolbox.”
My little place was heaven. I was completely satisfied with all it was and all it wasn’t, and there in the quiet, I whispered, “I hope I never want more than this.” Continue reading…
I love seeing your published pieces!! Thanks so much for the reminder that wanting less is still discontentment. In this busy month I have been wanting a lot less of the noise and rush and even everything good. Thanks for reminding me to be content with Christ. He does provide enough. Always. Love you.
I’m so glad this piece resonated with you, too! Discontentment hits hard in the busy seasons, but then I am reminded He is enough. Love you, too! Thanks for reading ❤