Summertime. When my house is in a state of perpetual disarray, disorganization, disorder, any and all "dis-es" you can think of. I can honestly say that this is the first summer that I've surrendered to it. In a house where the living room doubles as the playroom and the kitchen doubles as the mudroom I've realized that I can either make myself crazy all day cleaning up and following these messy little people around like a puppy armed with a spray bottle and wash cloth OR I can look at it all and give thanks.
Whaaaaat?
Yes!
Give thanks!
That is SUCH a stretch for me to say about messiness. I am all about order and everything having their place - their home. I LOVE taking a sigh of relief when things make it back to their right place. But with four boys in a constant state of play and a constant state of having the munchies I've thrown my hands up. I can either let my kitchen broom become an extension of my body or I can let it sit in the corner of the kitchen for the ENTIRE day (unless of course there's a show stopping spill). After dinner, it's all about operation clean up where everyone has their job and gets to it until the repercussions of our day are no longer evident.
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Picking mulberries from a
nearby tree |
But I hadn't even realized that I had come to this place until I stopped and was thrown into the future last night. I was preparing dinner and I went into the refrigerator for what seemed like the thousandth time and when I went to grab the door handle I saw mud prints. Hand prints. Hand prints that had been there for hours but that I had continually overlooked in the busyness of the day. And I stopped and thanked God for them. Something I am
not prone to do when I see muddy hand prints! But the word "life" kept going through my head and heart. And I pictured the one who made the print, running in from the heat of the day, from playing with his brothers, riding bikes, jumping on the trampoline, spraying water, getting covered in sticky ice pop juice, playing tag, face all hot and flushed and sweaty. Pulling, no yanking, open the door of the fridge to reach in for cold clean water. Cold. Clean. Water. Then tracking backyard dirt from well worn sneakers around the kitchen grabbing a snack for himself and his brothers. Not giving any thought that there
wouldn't be any food in the fruit bin or cupboards. And I sat there and stared at the muddy door handle and thanked God for the provisions we have. For the memories being made outside under the summer sun. And I thought how quickly these days go by. They're here and then they're gone. And I
could look back on these times and remember the mess, the constant opening and closing of doors, the sound of trampling feet in and out, OR I could relish in what's happening right now, each day.
And then thoughts of the future flooded my already thankful heart. They settled on the adoption and how
I can't wait for those muddy prints to be theirs. For them to be making summertime memories of running around with their brothers outside, riding bikes, jumping, spraying water, getting covered in ice pop juice, playing tag. I can't wait for the dirt on my kitchen floor to include theirs. Tracking backyard dirt from well worn sneakers around the kitchen, enjoying the fact that they
wouldn't have to question whether there would be food for them. Or fresh, clean water in the fridge. I can't wait to see their girly little faces all flushed with heat and sweat and most likely, because they will belong to me, hair all crazy, coming out of ponytails or hairclips. And I was humbled and grateful to be a part of what's ahead for our family. I am so appreciating right now and all that summertime brings, but God clearly showed me in that moment, there's so much more to come!