Monday, even in the summer, has become a catch-up, clean-up day for me. Most of the things I couldn't or didn't take care of in the week before plop onto the clean plate that is a new week, and before I know it, I'm up to my armpits in laundry, dishes, cleaning, etc. It's nothing new, and there's not a fix for it, although there are several books, websites, and the like that would tell me differently. No matter how you choose to get it done, things always need doing. Laundry, dishes, bathroom mess, clutter, toys, and random papers create the sea in which I swim.
The things I love to do and feel the need to do but which aren't necessary to our physical survival so often do not happen.
Over the last couple of years, I've decided to put more effort into these things, getting them out of the way as much as possible, working to accept the fact that this is what we do. This is what moms and some dads do. There is this underlying cry for escape. Something different to do. Anything different to do. I've just noticed that, when we sit down to watch a movie, I'm completely lost when a character goes on vacation or stays in a hotel without floors full of tiny tracks leading to nowhere, with their colorful engine counterparts happily in a row, large legos everywhere, and Minnie Mouse toys in various stages of undress. I dream of the idea of just deciding to go for a walk, getting dressed without thinking about whether or not my clothes would stay on or withstand a meltdown, and just strolling along, stopping and going through a store or two. Or even a trip to the beach where we could sit together without worry of anyone drowning or wandering. Heck, a trip to anywhere without worry of wandering would be great.
Just think... no fusses over "it's MINE!" to referee, no asking things like "why do you have cheese in your hair?" and "why is the toilet seat covered in red fingerprints?" No cleaning up poop, no scrubbing milk off the floor. No cleaning the dried drips from the light blue kitchen walls by Ryan's seat... or asking what in the world they are. No discussions over why we use the potty instead of our pants, no telling Ryan for the five thousandth time that yes, we are going to the hotel and what date; no, we're not going at 1:00. Just for a couple of days. Maybe just one?
Last year, when Eric's parents went to Ireland, my vacation was the lovely experience of reading through Mom's travel diary. Every day I had the promise of feeling the misty breeze from clear, cool waters, backpacking through the countryside with a stop for sandwiches prepared before we left... and more than once, I'd be so involved in this little relaxing getaway that I'd be shocked back to reality when one of the kids made a loud noise. I know I was just reading and email... but it was a nice trip off the hamster wheel.
But however short or long the trip off the wheel may be, the wheel awaits. There are noses to wipe, diapers to wash, things to pick up and sort through, and hearts to train. These things are never-ending.
Or are they?
The reality is that they're getting older. Their time with us is short. Sometimes the little stuff clumps together and blobs over the whole house, making enjoyment a bit difficult. I've heard it called several things, I've seen a bunch of different reasons why it happens... but it happens. If you know what I'm talking about (and if you don't, I'd love to hear your secret) there's one thing I've figured out that helps more than anything other than time in the Psalms, time spent pouring your frustration to your Father... and that's grace.
Yep. And mercy.
It's a mess, this house. Honestly, it reflects its keeper. I was thinking today, as I kept piling laundry into the washer after picking up crayons, wiping marker from the bathroom sink (and toilet seat), and attempting a peace treaty between Richie and Maelynn over a racetrack, it's a wonder Eric doesn't walk in the door, then turn around and go back to the band hall. Half the time he walks into a meltdown or a crying kid over something... or into a mommy who just can't seem to take much more. But he does.
Guess what else. He tells me he loves it! He loves our kids, our home, and me. He loves our life in its craziness, its limitations, its demand for rules and borders and yet call for flexibility. He sees me at my worst. He sees me the closest to where God himself sees... all the ugly.
And yet, standing in the kitchen in my running clothes (when I didn't even make it out this morning despite good intentions) this evening, hair messy at best, no face, with very few nerves left... and I'm not even sure my clothes matched... he called me beautiful.
After hearing me complain and whine about this and that and fussed at him about something little, he called me sweetheart.
Eric exhibits God's grace and mercy for me every day. He walks closer with me than anyone as I take each step, easy or tough, messy or clean, exhausted or energized. At my best or at my worst, he's by my side.
Thanks be to God not only for loving me this way, but for giving me someone who loves me with His grace and mercy, always pointing me back upward.
Bless the day
This restoration is complete
Dirty dusty something must be underneath
So I scrape and I scuff
Though it's never quite enough
I'm starting to see me finally
A gallery of paintings new and paintings old
I guess it's no surprise that I'm no Michaelangelo
Every layer of mine hides a lovely design
It might take a little patience
It might take a little time
But you called me beautiful
When you saw my shame
And you placed me on the wall
Anyway
You who have begun this work will someday see
A portrait of the holiness you meant for me
So I polish and shine
til it's easier to find even an outline of mine
But you called me beautiful
When you saw my shame
And you placed me on the wall
Anyway
Anyway
And you placed me on the wall
Anyway
~Nichole Nordeman, "Anyway", from the album "Wide Eyed"
Read more: http://artists.letssingit.com/nichole-nordeman-lyrics-anyway-1w2fbrj#ixzz1zWUUGkie
LetsSingIt - Your favorite Music Community
The things I love to do and feel the need to do but which aren't necessary to our physical survival so often do not happen.
Over the last couple of years, I've decided to put more effort into these things, getting them out of the way as much as possible, working to accept the fact that this is what we do. This is what moms and some dads do. There is this underlying cry for escape. Something different to do. Anything different to do. I've just noticed that, when we sit down to watch a movie, I'm completely lost when a character goes on vacation or stays in a hotel without floors full of tiny tracks leading to nowhere, with their colorful engine counterparts happily in a row, large legos everywhere, and Minnie Mouse toys in various stages of undress. I dream of the idea of just deciding to go for a walk, getting dressed without thinking about whether or not my clothes would stay on or withstand a meltdown, and just strolling along, stopping and going through a store or two. Or even a trip to the beach where we could sit together without worry of anyone drowning or wandering. Heck, a trip to anywhere without worry of wandering would be great.
Just think... no fusses over "it's MINE!" to referee, no asking things like "why do you have cheese in your hair?" and "why is the toilet seat covered in red fingerprints?" No cleaning up poop, no scrubbing milk off the floor. No cleaning the dried drips from the light blue kitchen walls by Ryan's seat... or asking what in the world they are. No discussions over why we use the potty instead of our pants, no telling Ryan for the five thousandth time that yes, we are going to the hotel and what date; no, we're not going at 1:00. Just for a couple of days. Maybe just one?
Last year, when Eric's parents went to Ireland, my vacation was the lovely experience of reading through Mom's travel diary. Every day I had the promise of feeling the misty breeze from clear, cool waters, backpacking through the countryside with a stop for sandwiches prepared before we left... and more than once, I'd be so involved in this little relaxing getaway that I'd be shocked back to reality when one of the kids made a loud noise. I know I was just reading and email... but it was a nice trip off the hamster wheel.
But however short or long the trip off the wheel may be, the wheel awaits. There are noses to wipe, diapers to wash, things to pick up and sort through, and hearts to train. These things are never-ending.
Or are they?
The reality is that they're getting older. Their time with us is short. Sometimes the little stuff clumps together and blobs over the whole house, making enjoyment a bit difficult. I've heard it called several things, I've seen a bunch of different reasons why it happens... but it happens. If you know what I'm talking about (and if you don't, I'd love to hear your secret) there's one thing I've figured out that helps more than anything other than time in the Psalms, time spent pouring your frustration to your Father... and that's grace.
Yep. And mercy.
It's a mess, this house. Honestly, it reflects its keeper. I was thinking today, as I kept piling laundry into the washer after picking up crayons, wiping marker from the bathroom sink (and toilet seat), and attempting a peace treaty between Richie and Maelynn over a racetrack, it's a wonder Eric doesn't walk in the door, then turn around and go back to the band hall. Half the time he walks into a meltdown or a crying kid over something... or into a mommy who just can't seem to take much more. But he does.
Guess what else. He tells me he loves it! He loves our kids, our home, and me. He loves our life in its craziness, its limitations, its demand for rules and borders and yet call for flexibility. He sees me at my worst. He sees me the closest to where God himself sees... all the ugly.
And yet, standing in the kitchen in my running clothes (when I didn't even make it out this morning despite good intentions) this evening, hair messy at best, no face, with very few nerves left... and I'm not even sure my clothes matched... he called me beautiful.
After hearing me complain and whine about this and that and fussed at him about something little, he called me sweetheart.
Eric exhibits God's grace and mercy for me every day. He walks closer with me than anyone as I take each step, easy or tough, messy or clean, exhausted or energized. At my best or at my worst, he's by my side.
Thanks be to God not only for loving me this way, but for giving me someone who loves me with His grace and mercy, always pointing me back upward.
Bless the day
This restoration is complete
Dirty dusty something must be underneath
So I scrape and I scuff
Though it's never quite enough
I'm starting to see me finally
A gallery of paintings new and paintings old
I guess it's no surprise that I'm no Michaelangelo
Every layer of mine hides a lovely design
It might take a little patience
It might take a little time
But you called me beautiful
When you saw my shame
And you placed me on the wall
Anyway
You who have begun this work will someday see
A portrait of the holiness you meant for me
So I polish and shine
til it's easier to find even an outline of mine
But you called me beautiful
When you saw my shame
And you placed me on the wall
Anyway
Anyway
And you placed me on the wall
Anyway
~Nichole Nordeman, "Anyway", from the album "Wide Eyed"
Read more: http://artists.letssingit.com/nichole-nordeman-lyrics-anyway-1w2fbrj#ixzz1zWUUGkie
LetsSingIt - Your favorite Music Community
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