i'm a nester.

it's true. i like to feel cozy and safe. i like for others to feel that way when they are around me, especially in my space. take my room, for instance. for the first two years of college, i was obsessed with it all matching. not that this is my personality at all, but i thought it had to. guess what: it doesn't. really. it's fine.
so, this year, my room is cozy. i've sufficiently nested in it.



when a bird builds its nest, it uses whatever is around it. it finds the softest, sweetest things and weaves them carefully together to build a safe place for her babies.
if you've ever read "sarah, plain and tall." you'll remember the scene where sarah gives the children haircuts and then scatters the snippets outdoors, so that "the birds may use it in their nests." this image always evoked care to me. sarah understood the need for a nest, so she helped them with their nests as well.


i don't build my nest with twigs or snippets of hair. it isn't a safe place for eggs, as i'm clumsy. however, it is build with my cozy things.
not blankets or pillows, though i do have those.
not clothes or good smells, though those hang about too.
pictures. i am surrounded by the faces and places that make me feel safe.
Scripture. i am constantly seeing words that remind me of Whose nest it truly is.
paintings. i see art that is a reflection of the creativity of the Creator.

i like my nest. yes, because it's cozy.
but even more because it's mine.
and because it's mine,
it's His.