Would you be okay with that?
I mean, I clean my purse out from time to time, but I’m amazed at how
quickly it becomes a disaster again.
Currently, it looks more like a trashcan than a purse. Crumpled receipts, wadded up gum
wrappers, smashed granola bars, and one melted Hershey Kiss completes the 'ode
to garbage'. Somewhere in there is
some lip gloss, my phone, wallet, lotion, and other important necessities. But, even though I’ve now confessed to
the blogosphere that my purse doubles as a trashcan, I wouldn’t want for you to
look inside. Ditto my car. It’s Trashcan Part Deux.
How about you? Would you be okay if I looked in your
car or in your purse? How about
your closets at home?
Ha! Now I can
smile. I would totally allow you
to come over and look in any closets and under our beds. Why? Because they are perfect! Why are they perfect if my purse and car are a mess?
Well, because my house is on the market.
Therefore, my entire house has to be kept looking like a
magazine show room. I have fruit
in the fruit bowl and fresh flowers in vases. My floors are shiny, everything is dusted, and my bathrooms
are spotless. Seriously, it’s
pretty awesome.
Except that it takes quite a bit of work and effort to keep
it looking this way. That’s
because we live here.
And, life is messy.
It just is.
Plus, my kids like to undo all my cleanliness the moment
they walk through the door.
Jackets, papers, shoes, toys, bags…I mean, they are in the house for 57
seconds and it looks like a bomb went off—like school threw up on my kitchen
island.
I finally let Alexis have a play date the other day and
after they were done playing, I told her to clean up because the house has to
be put back together…they know the drill.
However, the next day while she was at school, I went up to
double-check and found a huge mess behind her bulging closet door.
I had to pull everything out and make an even bigger mess so
that I could start putting things away neatly. I was so frustrated!
Mid clean-up, when a lid would not fit properly back on a
container, I lost it. This led to
throwing a toy, banging the lid and shouting aloud to a stuffed dog that I was
sick of keeping things clean!!!!
Then I cried on my knees into the carpet. (Which needed to
be vacuumed.)
Surrounded by Barbies and Baby dolls who just smiled numbly
at my pain, I sobbed for over a minute.
Oh the anguish of
keeping my house clean!!!
Really?
What do I want?
I want life to be easy of course.
I want my house to sell so that I won’t have to keep it
clean anymore.
Is this what I have to complain about?—my house not selling?
A friend of mine just had brain surgery. BRAIN surgery. Another had shoulder surgery, which is
still painful though not as risky as brain surgery. Bill takes care of sick kids whose parents are begging for
their kids to survive the night.
There is so much pain difficulty and sadness right outside my door. But, I’m crying over a messy closet?
Yup.
Sure, the future is a little uncertain right now and that is
frustrating. But all of these
trials (big or small) bring me closer to God. As Ginny Owens put it in her song, If You Want Me To:
You
never said it would be easy, You only said I’d never go alone.
He is with me, wanting me to trust Him with this house, with
this mess, with my life.
So, I take a deep breath and put the Barbies away. I look around, thankful for her pretty
room, for the toys in it, and for her healthy, beating heart.
I’m thankful for this house, mess and all.
So, instead of showing you my purse, you got to look inside
my heart as I exposed my messy, selfish tantrum. Luckily, I don’t have to be the one to clean up that mess.
I just need to acknowledge that it is a mess—pull back the
curtain and say, “God, I need you.”
And here He comes, the wise organizer, complete remover of
all ugly messes. The awesome
restorer of how He intended my heart to look.
1 John 1:9 If we confess our sins, God is faithful
and righteous to forgive us and completely cleanse us from all
unrighteousness.
So, I fall at His feet and He lifts up my face and looks
into my eyes and loves me.
What else matters when we are loved by the living God? Not our messes, that's for sure.
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