What Can Come Of This Mess?
My son came running into the kitchen, his hair bouncing with each stride. He was ready to help me with dinner. "Hey mom, lets make mistakes, lets get messy!" I looked down at his unbrushed red hair and the grin under his freckled nose. I smiled back—I thought about what he said.
I thought about the battle that goes on in my home everyday. The battle in my mind. I live like the mess is the enemy, and I have to stop it before it happens, before it takes over.
Isn't it the messy moments in my life that I have learned the most from? The moments of crumbs falling to the floor. The spilled milk. The mud that stained and left its mark...forever.
I am by no means a perfectionist. Unless something in my life happens that's different then what I want, then I become biggest perfectionist you'll find.
I clench my jaw and squeeze my eyes shut, wishing it away. But it's there. It's seeping, and staining, and sticking, and crumbling. And it changes me.
Every day I have to remind myself to live. Live in reality. Live like I have three children and accept what comes with them. Mistakes and messes can feel defeating. They can be painful. And the only thing that sounds good is an escape, because you and I know that things aren't changing anytime soon.
And you and I know that I need the mess. I need the everyday imperfection that spills and shatters at my feet. I need it because it reminds me that i'm human, and my kids and my husband are human. We need the mess because we learn from the mess.
And most importantly, I need the mess because it keeps my eyes on Jesus. The mess reminds me that I need him daily. And if anything good comes out of the mess, it is from him!
Through the broken glass, the spilled milk, and the stains, I learn patience—I learn love.