To-do lists.
People coming.
Schedules to keep; committments to honor.
Running kids here & there, school lessons to complete, errands to squeeze in.
Shopping list of 'gotta-haves' on a too-tight budget, in a too-tight time-constraint, with all 7 kids in tow.
Gotta clean the house. No, really - really - gotta clean the house. De-cobweb. Re-arrange rec room. Prepare guest room. Cover the flaws, disguise the imperfections. Stack the boxes, groan about the doors.
Rehearse laughing-shoulder-shrug excuses for the unfinished.
Fear the polite and silent judgement.
Striving to impress.
In the midst of it all, sick toddler: throwing up all night, fever of 103, loads & loads & loads of laundry, no mommy's-day-off-Thursday, hours & hours & days of incessant whining, and mommy's compassion runneth out
Stress.
Morning of: total emotional breakdown over about $15 worth of fruit. No need for details, suffice it to say that I experience about 20 minutes of near-hysterical temporary insanity. Kevin basically takes me by the shoulders and says, "get a grip! it's fruit!"
Ahem.
So I stop and breathe and remember the scripture I'm learning.
My family, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. And let patience have its perfect work... - James 1:2-4
If I'm learning scripture, but not really learning what it means, how to actually live it, then it's just a gonging in my head anyway. So why bother? Unless I'm ready to accept it. To let it shape me.
To let God's Word live within, and live out of, and live beyond.
Time for a moment to stop, sit, take five minutes to enjoy the breakfast my precious Autumn made for me. I notice the new cozy nook in our rec room; a spot to curl up and rest and pray, with a view of the towering Aspens outside, packed in blinding-white snow, tire swing beckoning for summer days to come. It doesn't take long, for His Word assures me that when I call out for help & wisdom, He will send the Holy Spirit.
So we all breathe a little; then laugh, sweep, turn the music up loud, fold laundry, set the table. Serene whines incessently, and I have more patience than I did yesterday. The boys play in the bath, I scrub heads, bubbles are everywhere, and I wonder at how I love them. The baby clings to me, all-the-more needy for these days of gradual weaning, and I hold him close, thanking God for his fleeting babyness.
Somehow, in the learning and the living of His Word, I begin to realize there is no decoration more important in my home than the Presence of the Lord.
No amount of scrubbing and dusting will eradicate the caked-on-film of pride, the stench of impatience, the slow-spreading stain of striving to impress. Only His Spirit can make this place clean, welcoming, hospitable.
It's not a perfect day, but it's one step closer. More at-rest in the arranging. More peaceful in the preparing.
And then they are here.
A houseful!
A tableful! and overflowing!
Hugging, sharing, laughing, dreaming, meeting, reconnecting, feasting. In the late, snowy-cold, starlit night, moonless black sky meeting point-top Pines - we run silly and barefoot across the deck and onto the trampoline. Grown-ups bouncing and laughing and slipping, gulping in the thin air, breathless at 9000 feet. Just for a moment. A memorable moment.
No one noticing the unfinished trim, or crusty lasagna, or mismatched chairs. These things pass away. Why should they consume me, of such little consequence? Oh, let me hear You, Lord; that Martha's serving was good & helpful...but Mary found something better.
My guests are longing for the presence of His Presence:
Acceptance.
Vulnerability.
Connection.
Friendship.
Community.
Oh that I might learn to live His Word,
to decorate my home and my hospitality with the Breath of God's Spirit.
