Take Up Your Space
A story about healing, hope, and space for a desk
This Space
It’s been almost two years since we moved into our current home. This space is yet another rental; our original agreement was for a year. Then, we added 6 months. Earlier this year, we extended our lease a third time.
I’m grateful for the space that’s large enough to house us all: my husband and I, the three kids, and now our expectant daughter-in-law. Oh, and our dog. Annnd a pesky little mouse that we can’t seem to convince belongs outside instead of inside with us.
I digress.
I believe this house is a healing place —the former parsonage for our church. I imagine the whispered prayers and hope-filled stories tucked within the walls as people met here for small groups and worship, counseling sessions, and private conversations.
Did the former residents pray for those who came after them, who would settle here a bit along their way? It feels that way some days. Like the great cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1), those prayers spur me on, encouraging me to trust while reminding me to think about what is true and lovely and good (Philippians 4:8).
I want to carry on that legacy of prayer and hope with those who live here now, and through the words I scribble and type—words that encourage, build up, and speak life, hope, and truth, especially for those whose hearts have been wounded and broken.
Hearts like mine, like theirs, and maybe hearts like yours.
Healing
Maybe it’s the healing within these walls or the leading of the Holy Spirit, but I did something that seems trivial and big and, perhaps, life-changing. Could growth be this simple, one small step at a time?
I moved my desk from the corner of my home office and placed it squarely in the middle of the room. Well, maybe slightly to the right because it looks better there, but like Baby, I realized I no longer belong in the corner. Maybe I never did.
A few years ago, the New England district of our denomination gathered its leaders at a conference in New Hampshire. As a newly transplanted Midwesterner, I was on staff at a church and joined dozens of others for encouragement, inspiration, and community.
The lobby hosted our meals, but with the jumble of people, furniture, and food, it felt like a game of Frogger just to grab a drink. Two steps forward, one slide aside, I often allowed others space to go first. Quick to apologize as I collided with someone, I meandered my way forward, trying not to get in the way.
And then someone spoke.
You can take up space, too.
I don’t remember the worship set, the messages given, or even many conversations shared that day, six years ago. I do remember this: someone saw me trying to stay out of the way.
You can take up space, too.
Surprised, I stopped to see who spoke, but they melted into the chaos of moving people. I grabbed my drink, shrugged the words off, and chalked it up to my Midwestern roots. I didn’t know I was trying NOT to take up space; I thought I was just being me, but the echo of those words followed me home. (Btw, have you ever walked past a Midwesterner in a store or met at the doorway? Try it sometime and see how they respond.)
The following year, during the pandemic, my job abruptly ended. I tried not to take up any space again, only this time I listened as others’ words silenced what I knew to be true. Words from a spouse, a boss, a pastor, or a friend, those you trust, carry a different weight as they slip past any defenses and slice deep.
You’re not enough. (Truth: God says He is all I need - 2 Corinthians 12:9)
You haven't done enough. (Truth: God says He has done it all - 2 Corinthians 5:18-19)
You need to change, and I don’t think you can do that. (Truth: God says He does that - 2 Corinthians 3:18)
You won’t make it. (Truth: I can because Jesus did - Hebrews 12:1-2)
Maybe I started withdrawing for safety and practicality, to tend my wounds as the pandemic shrank the world, where distance helped, and as our family of five downsized to a three-bedroom apartment. For three years, I felt safely hidden away as chaos and sorrow knocked at our door, like Moses tucked in the cleft of the rock (Exodus 33:22).
But no one can hide away forever, not even Moses. Time passed, the world opened, and life shifted to its new normal. I knew it was time to move forward, but when comfort feels like safety, everything feels too risky.
Learning to take up space
Still, I tried. A new job in a different field, learning about domestic abuse, and witnessing brave women experience the sweetness of healing. I started writing again, slowly, like the trickle of a faucet, but it was a start.
Two days after I launched my small business, This Rooted Life Co., I drove to Illinois and cared for my mom during her final month on this side of heaven. She nurtured me during my first years of life, and I walked beside her through those final days.
Even though I took risks and engaged with life, I felt like I still dodged … something. Like our sweet pup, Scout, when a storm rolls through or someone starts cooking, she quickly withdraws to a corner where she feels safe.
Is the corner a safe place? Maybe for our sweet dog, and on days when life feels too much, but what if God designed us for something more, even when it feels risky?
Like sharing this story, but as someone once said, I can take up space, too. So, here I am, allowing my words and story space to breathe. When something breathes, there’s life, and I want to embrace this one life God created for me.
I want that for you, too.
A familiar song just broke through my thoughts as I sit here and write —I’m no longer a slave to fear, I am a child of God. How often do we declare those songs on Sunday morning but allow fear to reign on the other six days as trials and setbacks sequester us to the sidelines again?
Or to sit in the corner of a room.
It’s scary to try something new. When we’ve been wounded, it’s scary to risk vulnerability and connection, to put yourself out there, whether through meeting new people, trying new ventures, or moving to new places. Yet, God Himself tells us that He’s doing a new thing (Isaiah 43:19), that He is with us (Psalm 71:6), and that He loves us (Ephesians 3:18).
Do we see it?
Do we believe Him?
Do we trust Him?
Maybe all those thoughts and memories finally swirled together last week as I sat at my desk facing the corner of the room. Maybe I finally got fed up enough with myself to do something different and not only believe the words I read in Scripture, but act on them.
So, I did. And one week later, I sit at my desk in the middle of the room, taking up space. I don’t know exactly what God is doing, but I trust He’s doing something. He started years ago when He first called my name, continues to speak through His Word, and people like the one at the conference.
And here’s what I also know to be true: He’s not done yet. God will continue His work in me and you until He returns or calls us home.
"And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.” Philippians 1:6
So, just in case you need to hear this from someone: share your words and stories, because they matter. Your presence matters. Your ideas matter. Your wisdom and insights —they matter, too.
Share them. Speak them. Pray them.
And if you need to, move your desk to the middle of your room and remind yourself: you can take up space, too.
[In case you wondered, here is a quick spin of my newly decorated office from my desk in the middle of the room. My mom bought me the desk after our house fire in 2005.]
I’m curious: How do you navigate risks? Do you jump in with both feet, hide in the corner, or stand somewhere in the middle? What Scripture passages encourage you?
Women’s Devotional Bible: The Message
A few years ago, I was invited to participate in a writing project to create a women’s devotional Bible based on Eugene Peterson’s The Message alongside dozens of other Christian women authors worldwide. Each author is listed in the index at the back with the devotions they wrote.
NavPress officially releases The Women’s Devotional Bible: The Message* on August 5, but you can preorder a copy. You can also order The Gospels and their accompanying devotions* now!
I’m honored to be part of this project and to celebrate its release with all the other authors who contributed.
*These are affiliate links. If you purchase books through these links, I receive a small commission from Bookshop.org, a platform supporting independent bookstores by helping them maintain their presence in local communities.
The impact of sharing our stories can be beautiful and we never know who we are or can help by sharing.
Your office space is very nice!
Kim, your new office space is absolutely beautiful! It is so warm and welcoming. I’d love to sit in that space and talk with you, but instead I can come to this space and do the same. Both your thoughts and the scripture you shared with me today were very helpful for something I’m working on. Thank you!