Wednesday, March 19, 2014
It's the piles of laundry laying all around me. The 12th load of laundry running in the washer. The dishwasher humming. The stack of crusty dishes needing to be washed in the sink. Puke bowls to empty and clean. Beds to be stripped and made. Bathrooms to clean. Floors to mop and vacuum. Trash bags piled high, ready to go to the dump. Fingerprinted windows, tables covered in dust, mail to sort and throw away. Bottoms to wipe. School pick-ups, allergy appointments and soccer practices to make. Errands to run. Homework to work on, papers to sign. Dinner to prepare. Lunches to pack. Little ones to bathe and read and sing to and put to bed. The early wake-ups, the middle-of-the-night scares. The boo-boos, the hand-holding, the endless hugs and kisses.
This is my mess. My wonderfully exhausting, fulfilling mess.
It never stops. It never goes away. But, it's the one thing that shows me what I really am. A complete and utter mess before God. A selfish creature saved only by His love and grace. Loving me in my mess. So I can love and serve others in their messes too - especially my husband and children.
Even though the nights are short and the days may be long, I'm thankful for the mess. It's a constant reminder that God's always there. And He's always working on perfectly imperfect people like me.