Messy Loves

This sticky hot afternoon I came home from work, a little mental-battle-weary and pride-scuffed. When I opened the door I saw our youngest smiling at me through a thin sheen of evaporated sweat and pen-ink circles around his eyes, his cheeks, and lines over his mouth.

?

I was more than a little confused by this until I saw the perfectly detailed bone drawings on his arms and, as he would later reveal with wicked pleasure, his legs. His older brother was, apparently, equally decorated. Not really understanding what my response should be and, quite truthfully, wondering where my good husband was during this mash-up moment of art and iniquity, I simply continued my briefly interrupted sojourn into the kitchen where I assembled the kind of taco salad that bandages and covers hurt feelings so deliciously well. Later I would consume more stale kettle corn than anyone should ever ingest in one sitting.

(Speaking of sitting, our recent hike-in camping trip bestowed upon my fatigued form a sore souvenir when I slipped and landed squarely on my posterior. I miss sitting...)

Since more than four hours have passed from pulling into our driveway, I've had plenty of time to reflect on the goodness of God, His great love for me, and His purpose for my life. But, regrettably, I haven't allowed a single one of those truths enter into my thoughts. Instead, I know I have been dwelling on murkier musings, things that I lack enough information to draw a proper conclusion, and things that have cluttered my mind unchecked for too long. And yet, God's truths always prevail and, once again, His love for me looks past the mess and sees the one He adores, values, and treasures, much to my incomprehension.

I suppose this is why I simply asked my good husband if he had anything to say about the kids having their skeletons diagramed on their bodies. He just smiled a bit and said he didn't say anything about it. So neither will I.

Lord, I am so grateful for Your messy loves, not just these dear little ones who perplex me with their naughty curiosity, nor my good husband who confuses me with his contrasting personality, but all of Your preciously imperfect children. I need to be reminded that my disorderly life is no surprise to You but Your Spirit of Peace and Patience is the best guide with which to view my chaos. This proves to me, every moment of every day, how much I desperately need You. And I know I do. I really do!

Glory