My house is a mess.
There's clutter in every room of this building. The mirror in the master bathroom is so flecked with toothpaste spittle on the husband's side that it's obstructing my reflection. The boys' room smells mildly weird and I can't find the source. Of course, there's always laundry to rotate and dishes to round up from throughout the house and gather in the sink, where they will wait patiently for me to get around to loading them in the dishwasher. I haven't thoroughly dusted in far too long and my kitchen floors need to be actually mopped something horrible!
And yet, I can't be annoyed or perturbed. Instead of a mess, I see the adorably proud smile on my Squish's face as he carefully sets the half-full cup of water he got for himself from the door of the fridge onto the desk in my bedroom. I see my big Boogie Boy carefully sounding out each letter of his name and my name and his brother's and father's and sister's name as he writes them over and over on his pile of construction paper on the living room floor. He's beaming ear-to-ear because he can write words like a big boy! I see my daughter's precious face as she takes another break from eating to look up and smile a big, gummy smile at me, because she loves me. And I see my handsome, hard working husband laid out on our rumpled, unmade bed, snoozing like a champ. He deserves it. He works so hard to provide for this family; I don't mind too much when he leaves a trail of discarded shoes, socks, belt and shorts from the door to the couch upon his return home from work.
I see the mess, and I'm honestly left overwhelmed and breathless at how blessed I am. Why? Who am I that God would look so kindly upon me? I, a sinner turned saint by the free gift of God and not at all by any effort that I put forth, have done very little to deserve such kindness from such a big God. Oh, it makes me thank God, and praise Him, and need Him all the more!
So, yeah, my house is a mess. It's a never-ending process to keep it clean. But that process and that mess will have to wait. My kids aren't going to bring me a small stack of books and then crowd around me so I can read to them in silly voices for much longer, and I want to soak up every moment of this snugly goodness that I can.
