I love
Empty rooms
Because empty rooms mean no locked doors
They mean no hidden screaming matches
No unquenchable tears, from those you never thought would cry
They mean no sister doing stupid things
Or stupid people
That will only hurt her later
No sister you wish you could protect, like she’s protected you
No sister you wish you could save from heart break
Or impart to all the wisdom she’s taught you
They mean no sister who will spew the venomous words
That hurt more than any blow
They mean no whispered voices
Validating all of your biggest insecurities
No hushed secrets denied to you
No closed doors, locked or otherwise
Or even slightly ajar doors—that are really closed to you
Even a door closed on an empty room is an open one
Empty rooms mean space
They are a place to breathe when everywhere else suffocates you
They are a place to run to when staying hurts
Empty rooms are a solace you weren’t sure you’d ever find
A break from cold reality
And a pause from the crushing weight of the world that constantly pounds against you
Empty rooms don’t make you cry
Or think of what it would be like to finally die
Empty rooms are peace unlike anywhere else
Yet empty rooms leave a bitter after taste of longing
Because for all of the gloriousness of blessed empty rooms
They are still lacking and they leave you hollow as ever
With no one to fill the void
Still I love empty rooms
Because hollowness doesn’t stab through your heart with sharp fiery pain
Preferring to remain a subtle manageable ache

Empty rooms.
Once occupied by those I love.
I grieve the loss.
I step in.
To face.
My fear.
Of the empty rooms.
But...
My Saviour,
my King,
the Lover of my soul.
Now embodies.
Now fills.
With His Spirit.
These empty rooms.

I open my hands.
I give Him the loss.
I let go of fear.
I lift my hands.
My voice.
My soul.
In praise.
I fill these empty rooms
with songs of praise.
With fervent prayers.
Where there has been tears of loss.

These empty rooms.
Are no longer empty.
They are filled.
With the Living God.

Here I live.
Here I abide.
With the Lover of my soul.
In rooms once empty.
But now...
Full.
Of the Presence.
Of Glory.

So imagine for a second,

Imagine we're in the same room.
No, not the same room.
Identical rooms, but still the same room.
Rooms next to each other.
Right next to each other but we can't hear each other.

You designed these rooms.
You designed them for you, and the walls are black, there are no windows
Only one uncomfortable stool, light bulb hanging from the ceiling, a single cup of water
You designed these rooms so that you could get away,
You got away from the words you couldn't handle, both truths and lies, to be alone.
And you included the cup of water, because you've become a cactus starving for water and
You included the water because it will last you until you've grown.

I got my own little room too, the one next to you.
You built these rooms to grow,
But your walls move out, as you find who you are, and you forgot my cup of water and
And you're growing yourself, the right way this time and
But I'm still a human being and I still have feelings and I'm not a cactus yet and still starving for water
But my walls close in, and I have no water, and the light bulb is a crayon drawing and I trip on the stool
Because of the crayon drawing you thought would make me feel better but I can't even see it in the dark

So imagine for a second,
These rooms.