In the less than two weeks we have been living in our new home, I am already starting to see pieces of my old self re-emerge. I am more attentive to detail. I am (more) on time because everything is in a place. (Have I mentioned how much I hate being late? So much; I hate that lateness crept in.) I am dying to have people over, host, entertain. Laundry is done, folded, and put away.
I am the same person. I was when we were in the camphouse, too, but I was buried under circumstances. I didn’t have bakeware. The laundry room was outside. We didn’t have closets. Those are circumstantial. They’re not my heart.
I am who I am because it is who God created me to be. I can walk in my callings and giftings because He created them specifically for me to carry out a purpose here on earth. Honestly, though, I believe He allowed me time to be “not Jolie” while we were in the camphouse so I could learn which parts of those giftings and callings were important. The parts I missed and longed for are the parts that need to come back to the forefront. They’re the pieces that will allow me to reach people and further the Kingdom. The pieces I never thought twice about dropping? They can go. Obviously, they aren’t worth my time and concern.
As I worked on “my space” in our new home yesterday and got journals, books, and pens all in their place, I was so excited about having that time and space back in my life. It helps me think, create, and leave margin. When I woke yesterday morning, that was my only mission for the day: to get my space back. To get back into a groove. To get in the Word. To write. Hand-write.
Y’all, it’s so fun to sit and reflect. I look back at things and see where I dropped them without realizing it and then I see where they have come back with no effort. It was a nice time of rest and respite, but it’s time to do me. Or maybe Me 2.0.