“You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!” (Isaiah 26:3, NLT)
A few years ago, a dear college friend told me she’s living her dream. Four kids crowd her house, the budget is tight, noise and mess are constant, and yet she reminds herself daily that this is what she wanted.
So… when did I forget? Seems lately all I’ve been doing is complaining. Can you relate? Mix together a pandemic, an election, social unrest, and all the togetherness and emotions of virtual school and church and, well, it is mighty easy to get discouraged about life.
Yet fifteen years ago, floundering through our early twenties, my friend and I both longed to be loved and settled. We wanted spouses, a mortgage, and our own laundry machines. We dreamed of ordinary family life, not because it’s glamorous, but because it’s meaningful.
And now I have it.
So what’s the problem?
Worry. Distractions. Coveting. Complaints. Infections, all of them. They inflame a parent’s perspective and steal our joy. But I’ve discovered a cure.
Try it. Sit still for a minute—I mean really park your harried self, just for a moment—and take a look around. What do you see?
I see LEGOs scattered where my socks are sure to step. I see half-empty ice cream bowls stuck to the carpet, waiting for a hitch to the dishwasher. I see homework logs to sign and volleyball shoes stacked in the corner behind a heap of jackets and dog toys and popsicle wrappers.
This is the picture of my humble existence. And if I view it in light of God’s presence, I will see with crystal clarity—I’m already living the life I always wanted. It might be messy, yes. Cluttered, hectic, and imperfect, absolutely. But it’s beautiful. And it’s mine.
It’s yours. Do you see it?
I’ve been dreaming a lot lately about a house upgrade or a Florida vacation. But the truth is, my husband and I are in the center of God’s blessings right here, right now, in our tiny house surrounded by browning Wisconsin trees and doggie doo in the yard. Sometimes I think we expect God to show up all shiny and clean. But the truth is he’s in the muck with us every day. We just have to focus our hearts to find him.
He is in the pile of playing cards on the floor.
He is in the paper schnibbles scattered under the table.
He is in those baskets of wrinkled underwear and the stack of bills on my desk.
He is in the noise, He is in the craziness, He is in the two inches of water overflowed from bath time.
He is always with us—in the beauty and in the clutter.
And if we look for Him there, we might just find that our “beauty” and “clutter” are actually the very same thing.
Portions of this post were drawn from The SuperMom Myth: Conquering the Dirty Villains of Motherhood.