My house is always in disarray. I try and I try to get used to this. With each passing day that I parent my unpredictable children (Is there any other kind?!) I relax a little bit more on this issue. But still, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it drives me a little crazy.
Cleaning my floor several times a day, drives me crazy. It’s not that I’m a compulsive sweeper (well, maybe just a tad), but I go even crazier when I step on stray food. Something about crunching under my feet makes me start to twitch a little around my right eye. I sweep in hopes of preventing a permanent tic there.
It’s the same with picking up toys and the endless loads of laundry that circulate through my home. I chip away at both these things like a dedicated miner searching out precious gems within the rock walls. I have to constantly be in relationship with these continuous chores or they would overtake me. I would love nothing more than to neglect discarded toys and dirty laundry from this point forward, but I’m too much of a realist. I know they would eventually smell something and after much searching find my body crushed by an avalanche of dolls and pink Lego blocks, my last breath smothered by my husband’s soiled undershirts.
After an afternoon of folly, a lot of time spent playing interspersed with me sweeping up dried, scrambled eggs, shifting toys from the center of the floor to an inconspicuous corner, and blatantly ignoring the pile of unfolded clothes living on my sofa, the baby finally succumbed to a nap. The three year old boldly rejected one while I secretly wished for one. But instead I wandered aimlessly through my home overcome by all the things that needed down, things that children would immediately undo. I walked into my bedroom and saw the unmade bed.
It called to me this jumble of tangled sheets. The chaos of the comforter whispered, rather pleaded my name. I immediately went and began smoothing the sheets, pulling the fitted sheet taunt, fluffing and arranging pillows, and making it just so. Something about making the bed made me feel better. Something about seeing a made bed made it all alright. It sounds strange, but in the chaos of my cyclonic home, the orderly bed puts me at ease. It’s a buoy of normalcy when everything else seems out of control.
After I made peace with the world via straightened bedding I decided to tackle my least favorite thing ever. The checkbook. It’s a four letter word in my mind. It starts fine. When I begin the balance is quite lovely, but as I go along it begins to dwindle. I watch as our money runs away in search of bills to pay. With each computation and ledger entry my mood declines right along with our ending balance.
I usually end up frustrated, mildly depressed, and a little worried. It’s interesting to me over the years as I’ve watched our finances. There’s always enough even when you know there shouldn’t be, and there’s never so much left over that there would be any chance I take it for granted. I’ve wondered before if we’re where we are financially to help cultivate my dependence on His provision. Maybe. Or maybe not. Either way it’s something I’m working on.
I try not to worry about finances, but that’s not always easy. Worry creeps in and comes down on me like an unexpected storm. I think there’s different storms in life. There’s the terrible trouble and hardship that thunders down upon you, pelting you with its mighty torrent (like the illness or death of a loved one). There’s the downpour of life’s concerns and the accompanying worry that soaks you to the bone (like my finances). Then there’s the everyday showers that while they get you wet you end up realizing they’re quite refreshing after all (like my housework and chaotic home).
I think the key to surviving any storm with your sanity intact is to find something to grab ahold of, something to give you hope, or inspiration. It’s finding a source of strength and stability despite the storm. It’s making a bed. It’s chasing worry away. It’s knowing God is in control of your life.
A nicely made bed gives me calm. Remembering His provision in the past gives me peace. Realizing He holds it all in the palm of His hand makes life livable for me, and enjoyable at that. Despite the type of storm there’s always shelter in His arms, and remembering that truth keeps you sane even if you’re soaking wet by the time you get there.