Half the battle is letting it out, so here goes:
If you looked in my kitchen cabinets you would find an immaculate (read:unused) food processor, and some beat up (read:VERY used) cookie pans. I have no problem eating Rice Krispies for dinner if it means I don’t have to be standing in the kitchen for more than 5 minutes. I have served my husband undercooked chicken and overcooked pasta. Most meals are served with good intentions but they are often burnt, soggy, or chewy. And sometimes smothered in bitterness.
I don’t have a stud-finder for hanging pictures or a sewing machine for making my own curtains or pillowcases. I don’t actually measure the laundry detergent when I do loads and sometimes I forget the dryer sheet. I have dozens of “Better Homes & Gardens” magazines in my home and use them mainly for decoration because I’m intimidated by their color schemes and overwhelmed by their “Dinner in 30 minutes” recipes.
I have a gaping hole in the bottom of one of my couches (currently taped over with duct tape) thanks to a freaked out cat who found it to be a worthy hiding place as we packed and moved. I painted an accent wall in our new place (and LOVE it!) but can openly admit that the spots that bled into the adjacent walls are not intentional “contemporary flairs” they’re mistakes. That I made. I’ve colored in several picture frame scratches with sharpie markers as they get banged up from each of our moves. My hand-me-down FREE.99 wicker dining room chairs may give you splinters in all the wrong places but at least 3 of the 4 are still standing! I broke the 4th one.
John owns shirts with missing buttons and holes in some of his dress pants because I’ve never mended anything before and am terrified to try.
Sometimes I nap when I could be doing something more constructive like organizing the pantry or washing the sheets. Sometimes I watch Monsters Inc instead of Schindler’s List because I don’t feel like thinking about the brokenness of the world. Or thinking in general. Sometimes I sit on the couch with every intention to read my Bible, and then wake up 30 minutes later.
Sometimes I smile when inwardly I’m cursing. Sometimes I intentionally avoid people when the Lord is telling me to invite them into my life. Sometimes I laugh loudly to drown out my screaming heart. Sometimes I kneel on the floor in desperation because I make the same mistake over and over and over and see no end in sight. Sometimes I want to tear down my husband, and sometimes I do. Sometimes I cater to myself even if it hurts others.
My home is a little rough around the edges, and my heart is an absolute mess.
Sometimes I just need to say that out loud.
Lord Jesus, I need you. Really I do. Thank you for coming, both the first time and when you return. Thank you for a grace that not only covers my aching heart, but fills it and renews it. Thank you for redeeming me in spite of myself and encouraging me and teaching me when I’m at my lowest. You are the only hope for the lost or wandering human heart. And thank you for crockpots and clorox wipes, this girl needs all the help she can get.
Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely, and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it.
– 1 Thessalonians 5:23 –