The vacation bag sits. Unpacked.
Totes still sit, in this corner and that, filled with papers, cords and frames without a home. Sitting, since our move last May.
Dust collects. Colonies of bunnies abound.
Handprints multiply on unwashed windows, giving an almost 3D appearance to the greasy forms.
Dirty laundry piles grow outside of laundry baskets. Clean laundry usurping their rightful home inside the basket.
Empty words dribble off my fingertips and I am forced to question the reason I write.
A fresh splatter of oatmeal has started to encrust itself to the kitchen island, east side. Compliments of Bug.
Molars bite. Literally. And didn’t I just clip these fingernails?
Hubby returns to work tomorrow. I dread sleeping alone again.
Design deadlines loom…and naptime has become a thing of the past for a certain 3 1/2 year old I know.
Partially read books lay unopened. 4, to be exact. Discussions await my voice. Catching up seems daunting.
What happened to the 17 hours I was awake today? I’m quite positive I didn’t twiddle my thumbs for a second.
Lord knows the 7 broken hours I was sleeping were necessary for survival.
The questions pound…why isn’t he talking yet, I’ve dropped the ball on this…should I be spending more time teaching her to read…we should get out more…I should play more…pray more…read more…eat less…I should probably not wear black yoga pants for the 29th day in a row…and on it goes.
I fight the urge to feel overwhelmed.
And inadequate.
Again.
{breath in…breath out…breath in}
Cricket’s sweet voice pipes up as I scurry by…”are you going to have some Jesus time, mommy?”
Who’s child are you? You’re stinking brilliant!
Or were you fearing for your life and making a strategic call?
Refocus. Renew. Restart.
Reevaluate what really matters.
I make choices. Quality decisions. Because I can…I should.
I choose to believe I will not just survive this season…but thrive in it, with all it’s chaos and clamor, it boasts constant opportunity for growth and change. And grace. And character development.
And lessons in real love.
Selfless love. Sacrificial love. His love.
I choose to trust…
that I was handcrafted to mommy these little lives…wired to assist in destiny discovery…my gifts and talents, forged with his, mingled with theirs, designed to show forth His sweetness in the beauty of family life.
Because God is brilliant like that.
Even where I am inadequate. He’s beyond ample.
My weakness…His strength.
Grace. In glorious sufficiency.
So I make the choice to play “mean, mean dinosaur” one more time. To pick up the little babe who requests, for the 7th time in 2 hours…”would you hold me, mama?”. To apply one more unnecessary bandaid and divvy out fruit-loop “medication”, and to dance like a robot…because it was a special request.
Because there will always be more than I have time to complete.
…dirty laundry will never cease to exist
…dishes will always need to be washed
Because there will come a day that my kitchen floor will stay clean for longer than a nano-second.
There will not always be squashed blueberries in little nostrils and sweet little bottoms to wipe clean.
Because one day, I remind myself, I will miss what feels so tedious today.
One day, sooner than I care to admit, I will long for a request to sit and snuggle when there are dishes to be done and dinner to be cooked.
And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that snuggles by the woodstove will always be more satisfying than a clean house. I know I will not look back and wish my home were a more structured, well-organized place…but one filled to the brim with love and laughter and memories and unkempt joy {pun intended}.
So bring it on, oh glorious, messy season of mommy life…I see, anew, the sweetness you bring, the grace you cultivate. I have come to value deeply, the profound way you strip me of myself and lead me to love.
Unpretentious. Unpredictable.
Deliciously messy…
Love.
