There is a road I pass that has a string of amazing houses. Sometimes the quality of my driving is compromised by rubber necking at the expansive gardens and gracious layouts. I wonder what kind of home I will live in in twenty five years when I expect to graduate. Will it have a gazebo? A fountain? Spiral staircase? It is easy to find
incredible homes on the internet, that are both artistic and comfortable.
Coveting is enough of a draw to merit two mentions in the most enduring Ten Things Not to Do lists of all times. That's 20%. But when I actually reflect on my own comfortable home, I willingly admit that it is enough. More than enough. There are three rooms I almost never enter, and two that I only go into long enough to wake Ben up and say prayers with the twins. Other than that the kitchen,
living room, dining room, bedroom, sewing room and bathrooms pretty much meet all my needs. Abundantly. It is embarrassing even to list how many choices I have for sitting down. Why would I need more? I can only occupy one chair at a time. There are daffodils that come up every spring and two dogwood trees with snowy blooms. The roof keeps out the rain and the windows let in the morning sunshine. Why would I need more?
Marriage can be a topic for coveting too. My
friend's marriage is more flamboyant. That couple has more romance. Her husband takes her to cute B and B's and their annual vacation makes ours look kinda tame.
But if I am not fully grateful for what I already have, why do I think that having more would make me happier?
