My perfect room

orange flower

My perfect room: the room in my imagination. I’ve always worried that to dream about such a room is self indulgent and a waste of time.  It is not living in the now.  It is not being grateful for all that I have and for this moment.

It’s a gift today to be invited to write about this room.  To be given license to write about it as a spiritual exercise no less.  This releases me to wonder whether I shouldn’t feel so bad about all the times in the past when I have daydreamed about this place.  Perhaps there is some merit to it?  Let’s see…

It’s a standalone room, built out of wood, one of the posh sheds that are trendy now.  It’s not painted, but left natural.  The roof is a pitched roof so that it looks like a miniature house.  It has a couple of windows at the front on either side of the front door.  Inside the front door under one window is a kitchen.  It’s very simple, just a single cooker, a sink, and 2 cupboards.  One for supplies and one for crockery.  There’s a length of worktop for preparation over the 2 cupboards.  

Under the other window is a table and 5 chairs.  This is where I write, sometimes on my laptop and sometimes in a notebook.  I write for work on my computer, and  I write plans, prayers, and my journal with a pen and paper.

On the other side of the room the wall is mostly glass. That’s where two more comfy chairs and a small sofa are arranged looking out over the woodland.  The woodland isn’t too dense so the cabin is still nice and light.  There’s an area of decking outside the door which keeps the immediate area free from trees and allows the sunlight to shine through the leaves and into the cabin. I love to sit here and read.  I read stories, and non-fiction.  On the table next to me are a few books: A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini; Fortune’s Rock by Anita Shreve; Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier (for any psychologists reading I would love an interpretation of what these books choices mean!); Raising Our Children Raising Ourselves by Naomi Aldort; Reaching Out by Henri Nouwen; and Platform by Michael Hyatt. I’ve been journalling my way through the Love God Greatly Esther Study; through these 40 days of prayer before I’m 40; and copying out poignant passages from each of the books.

I take a walk each day, and often come back carrying pine cones, ferns and other discoveries which I might attempt to draw or paint before cooking tea, or I might just arrange on the table or in an empty jam jar for decoration.  After tea I’ll make coffee or  hot chocolate, carry on reading, maybe knit and listen to a podcast, or perhaps it will be a special day when I have visitors.  I might be sitting around with girlfriends eating, laughing, perhaps even crying together, praying, and sharing our handiwork; or maybe I’ll be enjoying a candlelit dinner with my husband; or perhaps it’s the end of a day away and my whole family is here catching up on our news, eating, playing board games, joining in the painting and making, baking cookies, all talking at once, and adding several hundred pieces of lego to this otherwise minimalist, tidy space.  Ahh, at last it feels like home!

This ending feels like a bit of a cliche, but cliches are often the most truthful don’t you think? It’s a reminder to embrace the now, read one more chapter out loud, play one more game of Uno or Risk, leave the lego models out for one more day.  And also a reminder that it’s ok to dream if that inspires an even better now and so I’m off to clear off my dining table so that it’s ever-ready to be converted to a painting table, a games table, a dinner table, or (in the real world) even a homework table!

About expectantlylistening

Writing about my contemplative journey to come closer to Jesus. I hope to inspire and equip others on their journey.
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