Waiting for Content.

Waiting for my coffee pot. Waiting for my kitchen supplies and my ingredients. Waiting for my bed. Waiting for a job that gives me life just as much as it takes it. Waiting for a place to call home for more than a few months at a time. Waiting for a peace in my heart that transcends through these things.

Right now, I feel like I'm waiting for content. I'm waiting to let my heart rest and be purposeful as much as genuine in its beauty. I'm waiting to have that place back in my life where most days feel like days I want and know how to live in fullness.

I want to wake up on a Saturday morning and walk into my kitchen and have all the ingredients I need in order to make blueberry pancakes and a breakfast that starts my day special. But I have a foot of shelf room and little cookware and am living out of someone else's space. I want to sit on Sunday afternoons with my cup of coffee from my coffee pot and let the connection of it wash over me. I want to wake up and go to a job where I know I will stay at for a few years, and invest there. Where I am loved and have the energy to make beauty in that job too. Where it is a safe place for me and offers routine and paychecks, as much as cushion for my passionate heart. I want to sit with a book in my living room, soothed and enchanted by the ambiance of waves and oceans and blues and beaches.

I am waiting for content. I know Biblically I should be content in all circumstances. I know, I know. But sometimes that doesn't translate all the way through for me when I am living from day to day, when I live to survive. I am content in Charlotte. I am content with the friendships and community I am starting and growing in here. I am content in that. But I am waiting for content in roots, in place, in me.