My husband caught me staring into space earlier today, and asked, “What are you thinking about?”

“That our house is so small,” I replied.

“Other people live in still smaller homes,” he pointed out.

Two things: 1. Our house is medium, not small. 2. I like things to be a certain way, and it just isn’t… yet. My kitchen wall doesn’t have posters framed and hung, I haven’t found the perfect spot for my cake stands, the list could go on.

My husband and I are very different people. He doesn’t see the need to arrange books vertically, according to their size, in my daughter’s bookcase. As if there is another way to do it. So naturally, the fact that we had ordered two cupboards that didn’t match, kept side-by-side, did not bother him. It bothered me. By the time the monsoons rolled around, the cupboard I didn’t much care for got fungus on it. Absolutely disgusting. Then started the long drawn affair of getting the company to take the product back. I persevered. We finally got the cupboard picked up a few weeks ago, and ordered a matching cupboard! It just got assembled today. It’s perfect. I can see it standing here before me; finally where he belongs (it looks masculine).

God knows me. He knew I’d like having cupboards that match. And even though I didn’t pray for a new cupboard, He made it possible for me to have a pleasant view from my bed. Like times in the past, God reminded me that He cares about the little things I like. He also reminded me to let the little things be little things. Yes, it’s nice to have matching cupboards but it hasn’t changed my life. Similarly, non-matching cupboards, walls in need of fresh paint, or anything else, needn’t have a big impact either.

To be honest, most things in my life aren’t how they’d be in my dreams, but what I have is better, simply because it’s real. As Christmas approaches and I wonder what new decorations I should add this year, I’m reminded that Jesus wasn’t born in a fancy, five-star hospital, He didn’t grow up in a posh house in South Delhi, nor did He vacation in Hawaii. By Christ’s standards, I have a lot to be grateful for; by my neighbour’s standards, there is a lot lacking.

Thankfully, I’m not left without choice. And I’m choosing to be thankful. What if my house was destroyed for some reason and I had to live in as humble as humble conditions get… would I be the most miserable person on earth or would I still have the joy of the Lord? I have allowed my heart to get too used to the things of this world, temporary things of no eternal consequence. Yes, beauty must be enjoyed, as a means of pointing to it’s source, our Creator, not as an end in itself.

So here’s to praying for a bigger heart this season. A heart that soaks in God’s beauty, passes on God’s love, and is not fettered to fleeting pleasures.


Photo Credit : Unsplash 

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Freda Howell McMahon

Freda Howell McMahon lives in a little Goan village with Jason, her husband, and daughter, Amairah. She is a Psychological Counsellor by profession, and completed her education in Canada. Currently, she is researching the impact of pornography in urban youth. Dark chocolate with sea salt, strong black coffee, lamp light, and Amairah's laughter are few of her favourites.

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2 thoughts on “Lord Give Me a Bigger House Heart

    December 15, 2017 at 7:26 PM

    Lovely read. Our house was burgled last week and we are literally left with nothing (things that we consider valuable, jewellery, bags, shoes, utensils, all gone). Just six months into marriage and this incident could have left us discouraged but indeed God chose for us to value more of this life and the purpose we are on earth for. Keep us in prayers and have a joyous Christmas. 😊😍

    December 15, 2017 at 11:43 PM

    That was a good read Shana…Yes God is teaching you big truths ..through the little things of life… And your writing must have surely encouraged your friend Ekta… my heart goes out to them… but I too praise God for their great attitude… And pray The Lord would restore much to them as they remain faithful in the little… Keep writing Shana…
    Was blest. Luv .. Aunty Shirley…


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