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)