Pantry with space to fill

Hi, I’m Susie.
AKA Christian Wife Material.

And this week, I became the proud owner of… a pantry.

Not a whole walk-in Instagram-worthy pantry with curated baskets and glass jars labeled with cursive font (yet). No, I’m talking about an Amazon pantry because I was tired of playing Tetris with cans of beans in a single cabinet that also housed my blender and a small collection of mismatched mugs.

There was no HGTV montage. Just me. And a drill. And the world’s worst creation: the hex key. Why furniture companies have decided that hex sets are better than normal screws… only God himself knows.

And here’s the thing no one tells you:
Sometimes doing the responsible, grown-up, “I can do this on my own” stuff… feels kind of lonely.

Because as I stacked my rice next to the peanut butter and placed my lentils next to the bouillon cubes (the true chaos of a one-woman kitchen), I had this strange thought:

“One day, I’ll share this.”

Not with roommates, or temporary living arrangements, or the revolving door of borrowed Tupperware that never comes back.
But with someone who knows that I buy the good crackers when I’ve had a hard day. Who instinctively replaces the olive oil when it’s low. Who leaves me the last Pop-Tart, because love is sacrificial like that.

I’m not there yet. But I built the pantry anyway.

Because sometimes faith looks like preparing the space—believing God sees the longing and still inviting Him into the in-between.

And until that day comes?

This pantry stands as a weirdly profound, overly sentimental shelf of hope. And maybe also a reminder to label my lentils before I forget what they are.