I’ve come to learn that spaces are important.

2 years ago when my almost-husband and I were looking for our first place, I quickly realized how picky I was about my space. We looked at ones with views of the ocean (but bedrooms so tiny we’d have to store our clothes under the bed), a modern first floor flat with no windows, and even an apartment with no kitchen! (We later learned someone had recently died in that apartment and due to Eastern superstition the place was uninhabitable until every ghost hiding spot was ripped out). After several disappointing tours I wondered if part of being a missionary was settling into an uncomfortable house and trusting the Lord would give us rest in it.

We had one last visit before my extended outreach trip to Mongolia and my hopes weren’t high. I had almost resigned to the fact that I would have to let Travis choose a place while I was gone and I would have to do my best to make it feel like home. Yet as we opened the door to flat #29-3F I instantly found my space. The current tenants would be leaving in a month and their possessions were strewn all over the house and boxes were stacked nearly to the ceiling (much to the chagrin of Travis). But it had wood floors – and CLOSETS! Rather than a third and unnecessary bedroom, it had a large dining room! And while most Taiwanese apartments have a porch overlooking the busy street, ours had been converted into an extended living room (more room for friends!) with windows letting in much natural sunlight.

Travis and I sat at McDonalds later that evening in a stalemate. I was convinced 29-3F was the beginning of our journey and he insisted that once the deceased-man’s kitchen was replaced, we could get a steal over there. Neither of us liked the other’s choice, but it was time to make a decision. I made a severe promise to Travis that I could make 29-3F an adequate, if not desirable Travelodge (when your couple name is “travel” what else would you name your house?) and lovingly he conceded the apartment race.

Making this space our own has been a 2-year project, but it has truly become a delightful home for us. A generous gift from the Lord.

As I’ve struggled to write this year, I’m just beginning to see that I’ve put little effort into my writing space. I blame the busyness of my schedule and the unsorted clutter in my mind, yet fail to acknowledge writing is not something that can be done wherever and whenever.

My couch is a terrible venue, far too comfortable and far too easy to distract myself with other things. I cannot write while my son “reorganizes” my entire living room and his dresser. Coffee shops are not a thing for young moms (unless I’m missing something).

But alas, I’ve found a space.

Here at my dining room table, a candle lit, lights off save a small lamp. Jazz music playing in the background from a phone that is beyond my reach. A sacred hour in the midst of a busy day.

Today I am burning the remains of last year’s Christmas tree candle – a treat I had been reserving for the third week of December – because with my brother-in-law’s arrival last week brought a large, full, and beautiful new one from my mom!

Thank you Lord for sacred spaces and sacred moments to share and cultivate our good gifts from You.

And for the beautiful smell of pine and Christmas.