I wonder if the people living in apartment 2 know that I have been stalking them? Not exactly stalking them, but sitting outside their home remembering when I slept in those walls. Wondering if they can still see the paintings I made on the walls of my bedroom through the years of fresh paint. I used the darkest colors, so I hope that they still can.
That apartment was the home of the most remarkable change in a person I have ever witnessed. Me. I witnessed both the most awful me that could be imagined and the best. This was the sight of God's rendering of my heart to His. I wanted nothing to do with it. Didn't want the tears and didn't want to care. I didn't want anyone telling me it was going to be alright. But it was. God was telling me it was going to be alright and it did end up alright. Not just alright, but later while living in the flat below, I met Laura. My wife, whom I never deserved or dreamed of.
This apartment holds so much memory for me and every time I drive by it, I can't help but hold back tears. It is unique to feel both dread and joy in the same image, but in this one, I feel both. My friends remember it too. They speak of it often. I want to buy that house, both flats and keep it for a place I can go just to have pity parties. I would scrub off the paint until mine was visible. Tear up the flooring to the one below that had my name written on it. I would sit there for hours whenever I felt down and remember what God did in me here. I would walk out happy and full of joy because I was saved. It is so easy to forget what God has done for you in your ordinary life. The problem is that I never wanted to be ordinary. I never wanted to be a run-of-the-mill person. I wanted to be remembered. I guess that would be pride, I don't know. I just wanted to be something special. I think we all do. It is God that makes us special because of what He does to us. I want to be used in something wonderful.
Sing.
Migrate.
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