While I have never white-glove tested anyone's home, I've certainly passed my fair share of judgement on the housekeeping skills of others. Somehow along the way I've developed this weird way of thinking that the best kind of house is the kind that looks like no one lives in it! Where all the personal 'messes' of it's inhabitants are well hidden from public view. You can know me, but not by my mess.
I don't know why.
I could psychoanalyze it and say it has something do with poor self-esteem or unrealized self-actualization or some other nonsense, but I think I'll leave the 'why' alone. Actually I am under the care of an awesome Doctor.... a Great Physician. He takes care of the why... or I guess you could say He took care of it a long time ago. So I have a sickness, yes, but He's got me on the best treatment plan. In fact, His cure-rate is 100%.
Living, real living, is messy. He shapes, kneads, sculpts.... chisels us with His hands..... He does this with our lives, by His hands, and it is messy.
But what a beautiful mess.
It turns out the Great Doctor is a Master Craftsman as well. An artist like no other.
In our lifetimes we will discover, through His unveiling, the most amazing treasures.
I've been thinking about this, these past few weeks. I'm starting to see things differently. Did you know jelly jars make the best bug catchers? Stair landings are perfect places to proudly display legos. Kitchen counters are the best place to line with fresh ripening harvest. Collected leaves make great centerpieces. Stacks of music and piano benches askew beckon merry music makers. Muddy footprints on not-so-shiny floors remind us of latest travels and seasons changed.
Yes, I'm starting to see things differently, and I don't want to trade any more minutes, that belong to creating, for cleaning.
And now counting in the thousands.....
pumpkin creations made with small hands
a beautiful mess with purpose, always there's a purpose...
sister, brother, tape, paper and markers
signs of life
a generous gift, a happy memory, an inspiration
a WELL WORTH IT read
what duty looks like
the barely there, outdoorsy puppy-ish scent I smell when I kiss the top of his muzzle between his eyes
watching my girl do math
my boy's fingers dancing up and down the keyboard with skill I've only ever dreamed of having
my love finding an Italian chess board treasure at a yard sale
the many games played on it
the memory of my girl perched on the kitchen counter with pumpkin propped between her knees as she carefully carved the details of her canine creation
harvesting, rinsing, salting, roasting pumpkin seeds
my love spoiling me with decadent treats
him being generous with hugs and kisses
how we so often think the same thought,
fold our hands the same way
how we make tradition together
how he does his fathering
long walks on cold, sunny mornings
light showers filtered through afternoon sun
a brother on the mend
family meetings on skype
finding answers in the Word
how they are printed red in my Bible
how that visual speaks so, so much to me
a new lesson I learned about reinventing the wheel....