New Home

God I'm standing in it. I'm actually standing in it. The keys are in my hand and they're real. They're heavy and cold and real, and this is mine. This space, these walls, this floor under my feet it's mine. I keep saying it because I can't believe it. I keep touching the walls like they might disappear if I stop.

You know what it took to get here. You know about the years of saving, the envelopes of cash hidden in drawers, the second shifts, the side jobs, the saying no to everything so I could say yes to this one thing. You know about the applications that got denied. The doors that closed in my face. The nights I sat in apartments that never felt like mine and wondered if I'd ever have something permanent. Something with my name on it.

And there were moments, God honest moments where I told you I didn't think it was going to happen. Where the math didn't work and the timing was wrong and everyone around me seemed to be moving forward while I was stuck in the same place. But you kept telling me to wait. To keep going. To trust you with the timeline even when the timeline made no sense to me.

Now I'm here. Standing in the middle of an empty room that's about to become everything. And the silence isn't empty it's full. Full of promise. Full of potential. Full of every prayer I whispered in parking lots and break rooms and late at night when nobody was listening. Except you were listening. You were always listening. And this this is your answer.

God, I want to dedicate this home to you. Before a single piece of furniture comes through that door, before the boxes get unpacked, before any of the decorating and settling in I want you to know that this belongs to you first. You made it happen. Your name goes on it before mine.

Let love fill every room in this place, God. Not the surface kind the deep kind. The kind that makes people exhale when they walk through the door. Let there be peace here. Real peace. The kind where people put their phones down and actually look at each other. Where hard conversations happen at the kitchen table and nobody leaves the room. Where forgiveness lives in the hallways and laughter echoes off the ceilings.

I think about the memories that are going to be made here and I can barely hold it together. Birthday candles blown out on this counter. Movie nights on a couch that isn't here yet. Friends gathered around a table, talking too loud, staying too late, and nobody wanting to leave. Quiet mornings with coffee and sunlight and nothing on the calendar. This is where life is going to happen, God. Real, messy, beautiful life.

So I'm asking you put a hedge of protection around this place. Guard the doors and the windows. Guard the people who sleep under this roof. Let no weapon formed against this household prosper. Let this home be a refuge a place where tired people come to rest, where broken people come to heal, where lonely people come to belong. This is your house, God. I'm just grateful you're letting me live in it. Thank you. For every single square foot of this miracle. Thank you.