I met a dog named Bill today in an antique home in Ledyard. A sweet, gentle 30- something school biology teacher newly living her nature filled country life, toured me around her 100 year old house. Straight out of an Andrew Wyeth painting, the soft colors and crooked floors give a sigh to simpler times. She is hurriedly showing me where everything is located, including the game of Yahtzee if I want to! She wants me to feel at home.

It’s hours later and I’m giggling about the things she wanted me to see, just in case! Pool noodles in the shed, where the snake lives by the pool, the vegetable garden- in case the tomatoes are ripe and I want one. So many houses I’ve been touring lately for my pet sitting business. The meet and greet tours go all kinds of ways. It’s interesting what people find important to tell me about because more than anything, they want me to be comfortable. I feel welcomed in everyone else’s home but my own... until now.

Last night I slept in my new apartment. Not just my new bedroom but my living space. I spent the last few years looking for housing. This last year, deadlines were set and finding housing before my finances could be settled was a nightmare. But I prayed for it. I asked for God to catch me. I made the leap. I trusted that God would provide.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?”

Matt 6:25-27

I moved into Cate’s basement apartment yesterday. I met her at Toastmasters years before and we became pals. She added me on Facebook and we’ve kept tabs since then. Back in 2020 she ran for democratic seat of our town. She saw the plea for housing on Facebook just two weeks ago and told me to call her.

As I drove back to the house alone after a day of moving, I started to cry. I was going home… to rest. I mean really rest. I thanked God again and again.  I praised my prince of peace and humbled my heart before that throne and deeply and completely thanked the God of my soul. Tears flowed as I prayed into my gratitude and leaned into the feeling of safe joy.

I wailed. The last time I wailed, it was in deep despair. This day I wailed in relief.

Cate had shown me her favorite chairs and fun swing in the back yard. She had shown me silly trinkets and things that didn’t really need a tour. She had the same spirit as the school teacher today. Delighting in the details.  She really wanted me to feel at home. And when I made it into the house, I sat on the couch and finished my good cry. I prayed for protection and blessed the space.

In every one else’s house, the host wants me to feel at home. My entire life has been spent with people who don’t want me to forget that I reside in borrowed space. I was just a visitor. Don’t get too comfortable.

Now when I lay my head to rest, I know that I’m in a space where my presence is valued, welcomed and safe.

What does a sparrow worry about now?