A speaking engagement out of state had me away for three “sleeps” - as my younger two “Littles” call them. I broke up the 841-miles into chunks, not having to drive any more than four hours at a time. On the tail end - after preaching and praying my little heart out, spending time with my mom, sneaking in an overnight with my sister, seeing my niece and nephew, attending church with their family, having lunch at one of my childhood favorites, and stopping by to visit my grandma over a cup of coffee - I hit the road. Heart full, body depleted, I made the final four-hour drive home.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, I was ready. Ready to be done driving for a minute. Ready to be reunited with my family. Ready to resume my role of “wife” and “momma.” Ready to feel the weight of my plate once again.
I pulled into the driveway and pushed the button on the garage door opener. As the garage door slowly raised, I laughed out loud. Laughed because I had been gone for only three sleeps and there was some evidence. Evidence all around! There was a bag in the middle of the bay I was attempting to pull into, one that couldn’t be run over. The door to our other vehicle was left wide open, blocking me from pulling in (even if I had wanted to). There were shoes tossed here and there and hoodies on the floor that didn’t quite make it to the coat rack.
Having to park out in the driveway, I smiled to myself as I unbuckled my seatbelt. Opening the car door and stepping outside into the quiet evening air, I quickly walked into the garage and grabbed the bag that blocked my entrance, shut the door to the other vehicle, and snagged the hoodies and put them all in a pile near the door. That’s laundry for another day, I thought. I grabbed the remaining shoes and expertly tossed them into the big, blue shoe tote near the door. As I did, I noticed a funny smell I couldn’t quite place. Not wanting to waste any time trying to figure out what it was, I hopped back into the car and pulled into the garage bay - all hazards out of the way. Pressing the button again, the garage door shut me in, signifying that I was truly home.
Shutting the car off and stepping out (again), I opted to just walk into the house. I could unload after all of the hugs and kisses and stories. No need to have anything get in the way of that.
Opening the door from the garage to the house, I walked into the short hallway to the kitchen. The mess of the garage had found its way into the house as well! Clothes and shoes were strewn all around the living room, and there were blankets and pillows all over the couches. Dishes were in the sink, on the counters, and on the coffee table too. I noticed crumbs, spilled ice cream, and crushed leaves on the floors. It was quite the welcome.
Without a word about it, I glazed over all of that and saw my beautiful family - smiling and happy that I was home.
My older boys got up from the couch and walked over to hug me. The Littles beat them to it and wrapped their arms around me and held me tight. Even the puppy jumped up and down with her tail wagging wildly, getting in on the group hug.
I found my way over to the living room couch where my husband lay - spent from a day of preaching and ministering to our large church. We kissed and I quickly snuggled into his side where I feel so safe, comfortable, and loved.
I was home.
As I lay there next to my husband, I found myself proud of my growth - for I could see the mess for what it really was…
God is a priority in our home, and the shoes and clothes strewn all over the living room and floor meant that my entire family went to church that morning.
The pile of dirty dishes in the sink was proof that my husband had cooked multiple meals and had kept everyone fed, healthy, and alive.
The crushed leaves on the floors gave way to the fact that they had spent time outside - long enough for “outside” to find its way inside.
The spilled ice cream on the counter was from the generosity of one of our boys who had treated his dad and siblings to some blizzards from DQ.
And the funny smell in the garage?! Well, I discovered later that it was from a pile of muddy, wet clothes and shoes spent from a day exploring at the caves.
As I took it all in, I realized that my family had had a very fun and full weekend without me.
Was I upset at the mess? Not at all. Do I prefer coming home to a clean, orderly house? Yes, of course! But we live in a home, not a museum!
And a verse that has helped my perspective with this is,
“Without oxen a stable stays clean, but you need a strong ox for a large harvest.”
Proverbs 14:4 NLT
Sooner than I know it, the day will arrive when my house will be all too clean and all too quiet. The reason? Because my children will have grown up into adults and will have taken their mess elsewhere. And since I know that day is not too far off in my future, more and more I find myself OK with the mess of today.
Tomorrow I’ll have some surfaces to wipe, dishes to do, and laundry to catch up on. But today I’m embracing every bit of my mess. It’s proof that I’m a part of something beautiful - a family. One that tracks dirt, mud, and leaves all over my floors, and spills laughter, moments, and memories all over my heart. And for that, I’m incredibly thankful to be the momma that is home.