For 20 years I have lived in the same house, same bedroom, same everything. 20 years of memories. Bad memories, good memories, memories that I want to forget, memories I don't ever want to let go of.
My room has seen all the trials, the tears, the joy and the laughter.
I even remember the first day of being at the new home. A 2 year old girl, high hopes high expectations. It's funny what you can remember at such an early age. On my little pink tricycle. Trying so hard to ride behind the moving truck. Dog yapping by my side. My little heart beating fast as I notice the little girl who was my new neighbour. This little girl and I were to begin a friendship that still exists today.
In my room, I remember all the play dates that took place as a young child. Dolls out. Soft-toys out. Imaginery games- playing mother and fathers, Teenager Nutant Ninja Turtles, Cowboys and Indians.
And as I grew older my room changed from the fantasy land of dolls and animals into teenage hood. Depression. Darkness growing. Hiding secrets. Self-harming. Death.
But as miracles took place my room changed from the den of death into the sanctuary of life. Hiding in my closet to read the Bible. Talking with Jesus. Hiding from the fears of the world and embracing into the arms of a Saviour. Everything that meant something took place here.
Finally, at last, I'm moving on. Boxes are being packed. I'm leaving the nest. Do you know how excited I am to be having my own place?
This will be the first time in my life that I can live in a christian household.
I feel like I'm about to go home.