Thoughts on Home

I think there are some things you just have to deal with in life because they’re not going to get any better. For example, it seems that I may never feel entirely safe while living by myself. No matter what neighborhood I live in, or how many locks are on my doors, my imagination will always be able to picture a scenario in which I die and no one knows for days. At night, after I turn the lights out in the front part of the house, I suppose I may always feel that I ought to tiptoe to avoid waking up unknown monsters who lurk in the darkness. I will probably never be able to bring myself to look out of the window at night because I just know that when I open the blinds or pull back the curtain, there will be a scary man waiting out there, with his face peering back at me through the glass. I will probably always whirl around when a strand of hair catches the corner of my peripheral vision as I brush my teeth. Or turn off the blow dryer, just for a second, because I think I've heard something.

So, at that point where I’ve done all I can to make my home safe, I just have to sit back and admit that I live in a fallen world, and this world will never be a safe haven. Bad things happen to good people, even good people who pay good money to live in good neighborhoods and take all the advised precautions. I suppose it further reinforces the fact that this world is not my home. It is at this point that I have to say, “God, I’m about to close my eyes on this darkness, and I’m gonna have to just trust that you’ll either protect me while I’m temporarily here, or take me to the one place where I will feel safe and at home.” At the end of the day, that’s all I can do.