I live in four rooms. Well, there's a laundry closet, too, so technically that may mean four-and-a-half. But either way, this is one tiny place.

And yet, you know? Most days this apartment feels like oodles of enough space for Tom and me. When he's in the living room watching tv or he's on the computer (or both. A mirror hangs over the computer table so he can view the tv in its reflection. Silly, I know.), well, I can sit out at my spiffy desk in the dining room and pretend I have a whole office. 

Or I can watch the small tv in our bedroom while sitting in bed, gazing at magazines or playing with our cats (who believe this room, actually, belongs to them). Or I can even carry the tv into the kitchen and cook for hours while enjoying the company of favorite tv people. Or I could also exercise in the dining room (or the bedroom in between our beds) or take a long bubble bath in the bathroom.

And when Tom's not home, well, wow! Then I get the whole living room to myself. I can even sit in front of the windows and soak-up the sun, reading while drinking coffee or just loll upon the couch and watch our new flat screen tv, the only tv which picks up our basic (basic!) cable channels.

So, wow! Lately I've wondered just how much room does a person truly need, anyway?

Probably as much as my head tells me, which means, I can be contented anywhere, even in a small space, if my head is determined to be contented. Disciplined.

I am not helpless, after all, and I can be contented anywhere, as long as God stands beside me with all that He is.


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If my world feels tiny that's only a reflection of my current imagination.


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