Cracked Eggs

I have calculated that I need 82 more vacation days to successfully organize my house.  And that would not even count the garage, which I won’t touch if my life depends on it.

This drives me nuts.  As in, certifiably, would prefer to run away, nuts.

So why don’t I work on it piece by piece in the hour or two I have here and there?  Because in the hour or two I have here and there, I prefer to enjoy our life.  And because I require sleep (and oddly enough, massive hours of sleep, and always have).  And because I do, but a house full of people and dogs and birds and hermit crabs (yes, there are technically 8 animals in our home) undoes it.  So my life house stays unorganized and cluttered and not at all like a Pottery Barn catalog, which is exactly how I picture it will be one day- you know, when I somehow have the ability to take 82 days of vacation that I dedicate solely to the house.  That day.

But life is messy, and out of control and will likely never be the storybook picture.  So much of our life is completely out of my control, that it doesn’t take a psychologist to see that I try to grasp it where I can (though some suggest I still need to see one regularly, but I’m sure they’re wrong and nuts themselves!).  And while I do  try to accept the lack of control and give everything up to God about the big things, I keep grasping at the smaller ones. 

Saturday night while we were coloring Easter eggs, I looked down at an egg that had not turned out at all like we planned.  It wasn’t the color we thought (I may have mixed a few three tablets in one bowl), and I didn’t think it particularly pretty.  But the boys thought it was one of the coolest.

I would really prefer them all to be crafted beautifully, you know, Pinterest worthy.  I’d like to show off our creations, and have you jealous.  Have you ask us to show you how we could have possibly made these amazing pieces of art. 

But instead, we had fun.  We laughed.  We cracked them.  We got our fingers stained.

We ended up with eggs just like life- not what you expect, not what you’d design, but beautiful and messy, and what you wouldn’t trade for the world.

I think God sees us like that too.  We are cracked and stained, and not exactly perfect.  But He loves us and accepts us, and even celebrates us. He holds us up to the world and claims us as His own.  I couldn’t be more thankful for that.

 “How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” (1 John 3:1)

25 Minutes

I recently realized that my blog had a few visitors who had come in *unusual* ways- for example, there is a porn site that has directed two visitors recently.  My first reaction was horror, then I realized that however they came, they needed Hope and God’s love as much as, or possibly more than anyone else here.

But it did get me thinking about how I can reach out more beyond my circle and reach more people who might need that love.  So, I started searching for various topics that I hope one day my blog will turn up in results for.  After searching for ‘inspirational women bloggers’ I found a blog that spoke to my heart so strongly that I knew I had to share it with you.  Karen Owens is a mother and wife who shares about her families journey from the loss of their sweet boy through the adoption of two beautiful children.  She writes about so much more than just how their day was.  She describes glimpses into the very character of God Himself, as seen in these children.

This amazing family did more than just survive a terrible loss- they have trusted in God so much that they chose to adopt more children who might bring them that same heartbreak over again- but they chose to love anyway.  Karen says, “We wanted to love a child that was deemed unlovable and be that family God destined them to have.”  There are many of us who have faced painful things and are strong and loving and make it through.  But there are very few people like Karen and her family who then turn to God and ask for more, because they see His plan.

Settle in, read a few posts and bookmark this one.  I know I have.

(And I’d start with these:  Minute 25, My Unanswered Prayer)