What a mess. If I said it once I said it a thousand times. It is quite fascinating how much filth can be found in a house when there is nothing in it. The cupboards were empty and the floors were unfurnished, but somehow there was as much to clean as when we lived there.
There were no radios or TV’s to serve as my soundtrack – just a pile of rags, my chemical collection, and the sound of my own humming. I decided to start in the living room since there was the least amount to do there; just wipe blinds and clean baseboards. Halfway around the room as I approached the opening to the kitchen, I encountered a portion of wall just above the trim that was scantily painted. There was a fiber from the paintbrush still stuck in the paint and I could see the strokes had ‘ebbed and flowed’ for about 12 inches, ending in a glossy glob. “What a mess,” I thought. And then I laughed…I remember painting that trim. I remember because Brian and I defined our painting roles in that room; I, stick to the big white spaces between the trim and the ceiling and he, to cut in the seams and baseboards. How offended I had been at the time! What did he think, that I couldn’t handle doing a good job at the detail points? I’ll show HIM! Hmmm…hopefully he never saw this section of proof for his case.
In all my cleaning expertise, I continued into the kitchen and determined to start at the top and work my way down. That way, all the dust and crumbs would fall to the floor and I could just vacuum at the very end. I quickly worked through the cupboards where I used to store my plates and cups and moved on to the spice cabinet. Standing on the counter to be sure I reached the top of every crack and hinge, I began to wipe down the inside of the door. “What a mess,” I said to myself again, now enjoying the inside joke I’d established with myself. Tomato sauce! Actually, boiled tomato puree, to be exact. This time, audible laughter erupted when I remembered how long that must have been there. It was before we even had kids and Brian’s brother was living with us. I was on a kick – an eat-healthy-and-well kick and that night I was making homemade tomato bisque. The directions said to boil the cooked tomatoes until the chicken stock was reduced by half – then transfer to a blender. What the directions failed to mention (and, I might add, neither of my spectators chimed in until after the fact) was that boiling tomatoes tend to…uh, erupt….if blended while still at their boiling point. I dropped in three tomatoes and bit of sauce and sealed the lid (and my fate) on the blender. Ka-Blooey! All three of us just stared at each other before falling out laughing at what that moment must have looked like from the outside! What a mess…the ceiling, the cupboards and the cook…covered in bisque lava.
After completing the upper cupboards I hurried through a few lowers that hardly showed use at all and stopped again at the set nearest the patio door. Here there was no mess, but I could recall many a mess coming OUT of that cabinet! This one is where I kept the kids plates, bowls, and cups. Tons of neon colored dishes with corresponding leftover-lids. I remember like yesterday when Isaac first came home and would empty that entire cupboard and crawl inside. In my earlier (and wiser and more patient and more mature) parenting days, I would smile and say to myself “If I don’t put them away, he’ll miss the fun of dumping them out!” In the not so distant past, however, there was less smiling and more barking at my two boys to “put their own mess away before we all break our necks”.
By the time I finally reached the floors I was beginning to get that “feeling”. When a pattern begins to emerge in my life I can tell that the Lord is getting ready to speak. I got this feeling that some “ah-ha” moment was approaching and began to speculate as to what He could possibly be teaching me while up to my elbows in 6 years of life-dust. It wasn’t until I arrived at the little powder room (I just have to say as the mother of two little boys it makes me laugh to call it that) that the Lord finally spoke His piece. I was reminiscing of all the “messes” this room hosted, and was somewhat startled that I had indeed found a sense of humor around even these aromatic moments, when I heard Him say “The memories are in the mess”. I rocked back on my heels and surveyed the memories of each room and said to myself, “huh…He’s right”. I scanned all the places I’d already cleaned and noted those spots that provoked emotion. Those places that wrenched my heart were always in the areas where the greatest mess had been.
I know, I know… it wasn’t intensely profound for me at that moment either; just rather interesting. But right as I was getting ready to pass it off and resume my duties, the light went on. “How true a proverb for my life – the memories are in the mess”! How many “clean and pretty” things stay in my memory bank? How many life lessons came from a situation that smelled of a rose? Truth be told, I have seen God and experienced His provision and character in far more “messes” than not and those truly are the times I remember. Be honest…don’t you?
Recently there have been a lot of life “messes”. Packing the house, working 4 evening shifts a week at the restaurant, missions weekend at our church, parenting two boys who are trying to understand the craziness…it has all made me…quite a mess. I’m exhausted, impatient, uninspired, short tempered, weepy and needy. I’m a mess. But history (and the timely analogy while cleaning my last home) reminds me that He will indeed arrive to clean out each and every corner. He will leave my heart sparkling clean and when I one day return to the memory of the mess I was this day…a smile will document the memory of His provision.
We have moved out and moved on. We are in the greatest part of our faith journey as we speak. Plane tickets will need to be purchased in the VERY near future and we still don’t have all our support raised. We are nearly tapped out of speaking engagements, have shared with all our friends and family, and still find ourselves about $1700/month short in pledged giving. Furthermore, we now need to find a new solution for our adoption loan. All this to complete by July 20th! One, from the outside, could call it…a mess. And that’s exactly the way He likes it!


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know the fury they impart to just about every minute of the day. My youngest son, Cole, is no exception. Pure sweetness and hilarity one minute, fierce flesh the next. I’ve often cried out in the middle of a long day, wondering what in the world this phase of childhood could ever be useful for. Last night, he blessed me with a new perspective on his strong will and determination.





