The Little Pink Space
The little pink apartment you see all over my site is my pride and joy. Getting it marked a new season for me. I remember the day I got the keys. I stopped at the doorway for a second and the broker asked me if I was OK- I said, “I’m fine, I think I am just realizing that I officially live on my own now”. Only that was a lie because I was excited, worried, happy, nostalgic, melancholy, and anything else other than just "fine". I started making plans right away, and it wasn’t originally going to be so pink. When I first moved in, I was already dating my now fiancee, and I was pretty conscious of the fact that we could be getting married sometime relatively soon. So my first instinct was to go neutral- pick something any decent man wouldn’t run away from the second he saw it- something he could imagine himself living in if that’s what we chose. But then I had a thought: This would be the first and probably the only time I got to do whatever I wanted to an entire home- for once I wouldn’t have to consult, agree with or please anyone but me. That’s when the roses came out, and the chandeliers went up!
I’m so glad I got the chance to immortalize my first apartment on my site. As I look back on these photos I’ll remember a time when I proved to myself that I could make it on my own. At the time I moved in, my mom had passed away the year before, and I always tell people about how the minute she did I felt like I aged 20 years. Suddenly, living at home didn’t seem consistent with the way I felt inside. I had a massive weight of responsibility on my shoulders. Every day I stood in front of the the staff of our ministry, who had just been rattled by crisis, and suddenly seemed to look to me for direction. For the first time in my life I had something to prove. Not to the world, but to myself. I had to show myself I wasn’t only going to live the rest of my life, but that even if my mom had to watch me from heaven, I was gonna thrive in it. My little pink space, that was all my own, was the perfect place for ridiculously girly activities (candles and bubble-baths in shameful quantities) but it was also the space I needed to be alone and sometimes cry, and empty my heart out to God. It was the waiting place God used to teach me that growth hurts, but also that pain and sadness can surprisingly produce memories you cherish, because you look back and you say: “I made it! I’m not there anymore!”
In about four months, It won't be my little pink space anymore. I’ll be entering a new season of my life. In this next season, unlike the last, I’ll be learning how not to be alone, and my new husband and I will be combining our two lives and our two different tastes in decorating. Disappointingly, that means no more pink, probably less flowers, and (knowing him) way more technology… sigh… ok I’m over it now. But for me, it also means I made it through one chapter, and I’m on to the next. It means that even the worst possible thing could happen, I am capable of surprising myself and making a life out of that, and in a way, knowing that makes me less afraid of anything that could happen in the future. Apparently, you can learn a lot from a little pink space.