I wake to a massively cluttered house and wily children who would rather frolic in their pajamas than lift a finger wipe down a bathroom counter or haul the trash out. There’s so much garbage in our life, and my heart is guilty of acting as a dumpster. I’m irritated at how careless we can be, at how we let this place fall down around us.
I pull at my hair, tripping over the mess and the stuff that splits this house and heart at the seams. I think I might suffocate under the weight of all this life.
By lunch time, I realize I’ve had neither breakfast nor showered and my half hearted morning devotion isn’t enough to sustain me through the wilds of this day.
I clap frustrated hands and push the children to chores and we put the off the books for now, as we try to make sense of this place. I’m dizzy with to-do’s, overwhelmed by motherhood–burdened by my sinful tendancies.
It’s been a long week and I’ve wrestled words out 10,369 words, bleeding all of them in drips and gushes alike, deep into the early hours of dawn when I should have been sleeping.
Mother-writers steal time–that’s how they serve. They sometimes sacrifice sleep and showers and meals and sanity, just to get the message out–just to fill the cups of others, by His grace. Only by grace.
This last week, I’ve dumped words and untangled ministry growing pains and the dust swells inside and I’m needing to meet Him by the well. I’ve not had five husbands but I’ve still sins to be forgiven and I still need to go and live differently. I need water that quenches eternal thirst.
My friend listens quietly across the telephone line and I’m simple enough to still be amazed by this technology that carries voices through house walls, across neighborhoods and zip codes. She hears me, my weaknesses laid bare, my feeble apologies for missteps and stumbling.
I’m a child sometimes who only plays at being grown up. God reminds me that this is true, I am His child, who still very desperately needs a Father to guide me.
I hang up the phone and finally, I can see the floor again. Four trash bags heaved out to the back patio and the weight lifts, as the garbage goes out. Confession clears the conscience,
Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working. James 5:16 ESV
When’s the last time you took out your trash?