"My house is a mess" has become my mantra. Never mind that I have only lived here a month and still haven't unpacked everything yet, or that we both work forty hours a week with a myriad of other activities between the church and our families. My dishes are done, my floors are swept, my laundry generally stays caught up, the bathrooms are scrubbed , and today I even made my bed; but still I feel that because it doesn't look like a magazine picture I've failed.
After all, both our mothers work and keep house. If they can do it with years of practice why can't I? (Note I ignore the lack of practice in my own life) Then there is the fact that we represent our church. What if someone came to the door and saw all the mail on the table? Surely they would realise what a messy state the poor pastor lives in.
This is the conversation I had with my husband the other day. He graciously reminded me that neither of our mother's houses are perfect. The church is used to him being a bachelor and the house being a mess (a weak argument in my mind) Also, we've only been married a month, I shouldn't expect to be perfect.
I do believe he is right. Especially since all this has been done in my own strength. Today was different.
Today I got up, started laundry, grabbed my coffee and my Bible and spent an hour with God. Since then, the laundry has been cycled, the floors swept, bathrooms scrubbed, pictures hung, and dishes done. I still accomplished a lot this morning but even more than that, I feel good despite what I didn't have time to get to.
Funny the last verse I read this morning was "He makes all things beautiful in His time"
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