For the most part, I grew up in cramped quarters. My sister and I shared a small bedroom for the majority of our elementary and middle-school years. We had way more stuff than room, so our room suffered for it. I remember one evening Jen and I were home alone and our church friend who lived down the street while on a walk with his little girl, stopped in to say hello. They were like family so we let them in for a quick visit. I will never forget how he held his daughter up when they entered our room as she was about to slip and fall on the empty family sized potato chip bag lying on the piles of dirty clothes that literally covered our bedroom floor. Not only was our room a total mess, but my dad decided to tackle the perpetual insect problem we had by putting a bug-zapper in our room. Many a night we were lolled to sleep by the peaceful glow of blue light and the sounds and scents of bugs frying. Hummm...I was conceived in a trailer so it is all quite fitting.
I think once I got married and moved out I over compensated for the mess I grew up in by becoming extremely OCD about things being clean. When people came over to my house, they had to hold on tight to their glass of water or else it would end up in the dishwasher the moment they set it down. I'm sure everyone was completely comfortable and at ease at my house, don't you think? You can only imagine the shock waves two kids under 3 have sent through my squeaky clean world. On any given day I'm covered with several different samplings of bodily fluids and lunch ingredients, my feet occasionally stick to the floor as I walk through the minefield of toys strewn about. It's actually been really hard for me to come to terms with. I thought for some reason that I would be able to control it all, that everything would work out like when Mary Poppins snapped her fingers and the room cleaned itself. If only...
I have a decorative plate on display in my kitchen that you can write on with a dry erase marker. I usually put some verse on it that keeps me focus on what's important. Well recently I took the liberty to personalize a favorite verse of mine. It reads " As for me and my mess, we will serve the Lord." I'm determined to not let the less than ideal condition of my surroundings keep me from enjoying the life I've been given, I want to embrace every moment without a second thought about the dusty dresser, cluttered closet or crumb-covered couches. I want to glorify God despite the imperfection and raise my glass to a big fat "WHO CARES?!"
John Wesley said "cleanliness is next to godliness"...he obviously didn't have kids or he, like me, would be in big trouble.
Mommy, why is that guy riding a motorcycle? Mommy why does that girl have funny hair? Why, why, why? I feel like I'm supposed to have all the answers, not just for my kids, but for myself. But the more I know, the more I don't know... you know what I mean? There are times I ask "why me?", only to look around and say why not me? Why do some peoples lives consist of one struggle after another and why do other seemingly float through life relatively unscathed. Why do people who don't want babies have them and why are people who really want to have babies unable to? Why do people hurt each other? Why would I ever be unhappy when I have everything I could ever want and more? And when it comes to someone asking you a question about God's sovereignty why is it so hard to say "I don't know"? Why?
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