Curating my Comforts
It’s official. The Parks family is now mostly Kansan! I say mostly because there are quite a few possessions still trickling onto our doorstep in shipping containers. Unwrapping your own belongings can feel a bit like Facebook’s Memories feature by ushering smiles, stories, and occasional concern. What was I thinking?! Very soon, though, our family will be certified midwesterners with a mailing address and license plates to prove it. I know families relocate all the time, but this has been an entirely new experience for me. At times it’s felt a bit out-of-body; as if I’m watching a movie about a man and his family on a fearless, westward adventure, while behind the scenes I’m privy to the doubt and indecision that plague it. It’s certainly been difficult, but surprisingly more frustrating: it’s been uncomfortable.
Before this life-change, I didn’t realize how deeply I’d desired and designed my comforts. I had a favorite coffee shop and a favorite coffee. I had a barber. I had a daily routine and I could drive places without needing GPS. I knew where to pay my taxes and I knew how much they would be (just kidding). In a way this sounds ridiculous, but it proves a more ridiculous point: I’d spent years crafting a comfortable life by padding it with preference and predictability. Though I don’t believe I’ve been called to a life without comforts, I do believe I’ve been drawing a portion of my peace from them.
Callouses, like comforts, properly develop against abrasions, but when they’re torn away the skin is raw, exposed and sorely sensitive. This is where God has me. Being stripped of my calloused comforts I’m finding an increased sensitivity to what God is saying and doing. More than simply receptive, I’m expectant, eager even, to move beyond this stage of exposure. I’m looking for a new barber, frantic for a firm routine and desperate for a bold coffee brew. Comfort isn’t evil anymore than chaos is holy, but at the heart of the matter is this question: How deeply do I allow my luxuries to placate my listening? This time of transition has served as a gracious invitation to lean in.
So don’t worry about these things, saying, ‘What will we eat? What will we drink? What will we wear?” These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers, but your heavenly Father already knows all your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need. Don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today. Matthew 6:31-34 NLT
A final thought: as I sort through my boxes of belongings, I’m granted an opportunity to reevaluate each item’s readmission to my life. I’m curating my comforts. And as my callouses begin forming once again I’m praying for wisdom in the process.
