Different

I miss my orange room. I miss my less than normal size bedroom. It wasn't glamorous. But it was the room I had since I was born. I miss coming home from soccer, school, band, vacation, and coming home to something that was the same. It was reliable. It was my room, my own room. Somewhere I could lay down, nap, read, listen to music, do my homework, have friends over, cry, scream, dance, sing. It was where I could be me.

I don't have my room anymore. And I'm making myself learn the hard way to be grateful and know that even though things are different, I don't have a room and won't have my room again, that the gospel is always reliable and the same. It's something I don't have to pack up and live out of a suitcase or a box. It's me where i can be me outside of my room.