The five-minute-Friday prompt, which triggers a five-minute unedited writing spree for many women who choose to join, made me laugh out loud. Oh how this one is tailor made just for me.
Mess. That would be me. My son is getting ready to go camping with a youth group, but forgot to get his laundry in the hamper, so nothing is clean. The dog is following me around the house tripping me, as she has all week, because we keep getting thunderstorms. I spent the whole afternoon—my “time off”—working frantically to get things done in preparation for my senior class to have a nice graduation. My oldest daughter is away at college and we just spent about 15 minutes sending each other pictures on facebook chat to make each other laugh—me while cleaning, she while studying for finals. My middle daughter is doing homework in between snatching snacks and drifting off to do something unrelated. I haven’t had time to vacuum all week; the laundry has piled up. The kitchen is relatively clean, but the family room makes up for it with a spectacular mess.
Me. I’m a mess. I’m tired and grumpy. And even while writing this, my brother Skyped from five states away to give me a tour of my mom and dad’s new house. They had to move, after 50 some years in the other house—my childhood home. My hair is too long and needs a trim and I’m wearing sweats because in spite of the fact that it’s May, it’s still very cold.
A mess. That’s what I’ve got. I have nothing amazing to offer. Me and my mess.
But see, that’s the beauty of life. I have nothing to offer. But God does.
My mess looks like too much to handle, but God has a plan.
There is beauty in my mess—my kids and my animals love me and I have a house to have a mess in! My brother and parents love me enough to include me in a life-changing moment and my daughter can share jokes with me long distance. My son gets to go camping and my messy house is a sign of a life well-lived—always something going on.
God showers me with everything I actually need and He doesn’t need my house to be clean in order to love me. He doesn’t care if my hair is in perfect condition and he doesn’t run his fingers along the tops of my doors to check for dust. He loves me.
Just the way I am. A mess.
My time is up so I’m leaving my mess alone; my husband and daughter are now waiting for me so we can watch our TV show together.
Join us at Lisa-Jo Baker’s for a whole mess of ‘mess’ 🙂 .
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