Emily Sparks, Ryals Minister for Families

May 21, 2020

We moved into our house when our youngest daughter was six weeks old. We toured the house on a Wednesday morning. I was six days overdue with Molly and it seemed like a good time to really focus on our real estate pursuits. Aaron had only seen the first floor and we still decided to put an offer on it. I made plans to meet up with our realtor on Thursday morning to put our offer together. Instead of having that meeting on Thursday morning, Molly was born. Riding the high of just having a baby and somehow feeling bored in the hospital, we called up our realtor and put together an offer (from the hospital). To our shock and surprise, our offer was accepted and I spent my maternity leave compiling paperwork and organizing buying our first home. And moving. And unpacking.

I can’t say we put a lot of thought into our house. For some reason, I felt really called to the neighborhood where we now live and we grabbed the first house that we could get (spoiler…we have the best neighbors and I am so glad we are where we are). As we moved into our new home, I had a sinking feeling that perhaps we had made a mistake and had already outgrown the house before we even moved in. Our house is fairly small and is setup without extra space or rooms to spare. 

When I first started working remotely, I did so wherever I could find space and any hope of quiet (though my kids seem to always find me). My work traveled around in a tote bag and it seemed that whatever I needed was always at the bottom of the bag. I was constantly packing up because my work spaces also doubled as eating, living, and sleeping spaces. I took time over Holy Week to make myself a desk. I setup two sets of drawers and placed a piece of wood over it. I borrowed a bookshelf from the kid’s room to organize my work. And breathed a sigh of relief to no longer have to be a wanderer in my own home.

My makeshift office corner has become my place. It is where I sit and focus on work as efficiently as possible. It is where I have meetings. It is where I pray. With each morning prayer said here, each meeting opening with prayer, each prayerful song I listen to, each moment of silence and contemplation, each vulnerable moment of sharing my own prayer needs with friends and listening to theirs, this place is becoming more holy. There is nothing beautiful about my place…it is pretty ugly. And it is holy. A place of comfort and place where I am finding and meeting God. 

We miss St. Philip’s and we miss our other holy places. I wonder where is holy for you now? Where do you find God?