By Emily H
There is a rug on the floor of my room. It is small and colorful and hand-sewn. I walk on it every day and it’s ripping at the edges, but it has never gone unnoticed or unloved.
Five years ago I found it in a box of knick-knacks from my mom’s basement. I tucked it away with my things and took it with me to college. When I got to my first dorm room I unrolled it beside my bed before unpacking the few other things that I owned. Of everything that I brought with me, I quickly became attached to this rug! I loved the different colors, and though it was new to me, it felt the most like home. In every apartment that I moved to, it quickly became the centerpiece of the room. It was the ultimate symbol of home, peace, and serenity.
The rug willingly came along as plans began to fail and I led it to more unfortunate places. During the first few lonesome weeks it took place spread out in the backseat of the car, alongside myself. Late at night the reality of my solitary life would hit me, but I knew that with what little I had, I was “home.” Weeks later a hopeful change brought me to a small shack. The rug lay below my bed, bright and inviting, next to a few other things I had found to turn this literal tool shed into my home. Even though I was making remarkable changes in my life both with work and in my own spiritual growth, at the end of each day I found myself in this 90 degree heat-trap struggling to fall asleep. The location was less than desirable to say the least but with what I had, I was happy because I was “home.” Outside of this lonely lifestyle I had begun a better life. Things were slowly improving and I was okay. With a prayer on top of my tattered rug I’d thank God for what I had before falling asleep. To my surprise, yet another unplanned upset landed me beach-side in a tent. If life could have gotten any more complicated it wouldn’t have mattered. With unyielding resilience the rug was tucked beneath my feet every night reminding me of the blessings I still had.
Through all that I have put it through, the rug has remained intact! It still brightens each day with its vibrant colors. It is slightly faded and torn but the markings only show how diligent it’s been in fulfilling its purpose. It has been my companion and comforter through these years of trial, error, victory, and joy, but I feel as if I have had it my whole life. Although it cannot speak to me I have often felt its comforting warmth and the reassurance of its closeness.
Through time this rug has come to symbolize so much more to me than “home.” Today it symbolizes the source that truly got me through the storm: my Savior, Jesus Christ. He has been my constant companion through good and bad, a familiar friend and supporter. He is strong, unchanging, comforting and warm. The marks that He holds in His hands and feet are a reminder that He has and will continue to carry me.
A verse in the Bible reads, “For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out”(1 Timothy 6:7). Through these experiences I have learned the truthfulness of this simple sentence. As I struggled the years, I did not enjoy the materials possessions that we usually seek. So often we are searching for more than what we have, when the reality is that we already have it all. There is a way to have nothing and yet have everything, to feel so lost and yet know that you are safe, and it is through our loving Savior Jesus Christ. In Him, we all have a familiar source of comfort.