I got the call last week—my landlord was not agreeable to my offer. I’m sad. But grateful for the clarity. Oddly enough, now I’m in familiar territory. I’ve been in this where-will-reb-live zone many times, and have learned to enjoy the adventure of this unknown. What I do know is that it is time for two things: 1. Let things breathe. It doesn’t do much good to rush into Search Mode. 2. Start saying goodbye. To my neighbors. To this space. Celebrate all that God has taught me in this home.
One of the main things this home has taught me is: I’m allowed to take up space; I’m allowed to have preferences. I’m indebted to my dozens of generous housemates over the years who have taught me to prefer others, to compromise, to communicate lovingly. Yet the last two years of living alone has given me something inexplicable. Let me show what I mean:
I have the freedom to build this space to reflect what I value. To create an environment that can shape me into the person I want to continue becoming. I believe that the physical space of home can disciple you.
For example: this is my first home where I don’t have a television. Don’t get me wrong, I love movies and the occasional tv show. I like ultra-high-definition screens to showcase my triumphant victory when I beat my friends in Mario Kart.
But that means, subconsciously, the rest of the room is designed around that screen. And, ultimately, it communicates a value statement: this room values a passive activity of sitting in front of this screen. (Again, which I have zero problems with. Especially with home-popped popcorn. With extra butter.)
But this home gave me a blank canvas.
And I decided that, for me in this season, I want to value activities of rest, worship, music, boredom-led-art and creativity, and long-form quiet activities. Hence:
the couch. My first big kid purchase. It’s form and function. It’s not quite nephew-proof. But it’s perfect. From naps to heart-to-hearts to impromptu counselling sessions to discovering old art-forms (ie knitting) and new ones (sketching).
the bookshelf. An open-concept shelf that doubles as an extra layer of privacy from the corridor windows. I am an avid NLB user (Singapore’s library), but I definitely gave myself permission over the last two years to purchase books for my own library hehe.
the keyboard. A simple black Korg with weighted keys. Not the same as a real piano (baby grand Steinway is the dream!), but it has served me well since Home #3 (we’re up to Home #6 now). It’s the way I best communicate with Jesus. Plunking. Singing. Being. To meet with God. To just be still before him.
the four ukuleles. What can I say? Ukes are like tattoos—you can’t just get one. They are all mahogany, but they differ in size and timbre: a concert, a tenor, a baritone, and a poor baby soprano that cracked from the last move from Home #5. I like to prop them up, not encased (which is probably not the best for them with this humidity), but it means I can easily pick them up, strumming and plucking and humming as I putz around the house.
the indoor jungle. Aren’t my plants so cute! If my plants are happy, reb is happy!
My place is small. On average I have 2-3 friends over at a time. The most I’ve squished for a meal is six adults and two children. But it’s perfect. I like getting to practice hospitality in small ways.
I’m really proud of how I’ve set up this home. I like how I’ve made it my own. I like arranging systems and curating nooks. One of my favorite ways to image God is to create order out of chaos. Create something out of nothing. This home, Home #6, helped me recognise and practice this. Home #6 gave me the gift of unfurnished white walls. It was the blank canvas I needed to dream and create and be.
I’m grateful.
songs on repeat
Jesus > Everything by TAYA
Miracle in the Works by Tribl
The Lord Will Provide by Passion (thanks, becca!)
Hidden in My Heart A Lullaby Journey Through Scripture, Vol 4 (thanks, prabs!)
current reads
How to Know a Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen by David Brooks
Percy Jackson: The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan (thanks, zaara!)
A Praying Church: Becoming a People of Hope in a Discouraging World by Paul E. Miller
more quotes from a praying church
Social media is instant and visual. Prayer is slow and mysterious, which involves a kind of dying.
Jesus is making one of the most important decisions of his earthly life: selecting the church’s DNA. As the world’s most God-dependent human being, he can’t pick disciples on his own, so he prays. He manages by prayer. In contrast, most churches go into a management mode where prayer functions like a formality. What emerges from Jesus’ prayer vigil is shocking: he selects twelve blue-collar laborers. Instead of Harvard, Jesus goes to the Home Depot. He picks laborers, not leaders. Surprise is one of the Spirit’s signature moves.
Dependence, not discipline, drives Jesus’ prayer life.
Thank you for reading, friends! Don’t forget to go outside and play with a smol child in your life!
love,
reb
a shout out <3 i love you and i love these glimpses. praying for you in this season.