In the Midst of the Mess

I guess "delusional" is about the only word for it.

During the long car ride back from Ohio last night, my mind began filling with lists: people to email, tasks to complete, projects to start, gifts to purchase. I grabbed a pen and filled half a sheet of paper with scribbled reminders, a few urgent items starred.

Bright and early this morning, I dove in, selecting only the most time-sensitive and immediately necessary items to copy onto a to-do list for today. And then my toddler woke up, and we both faced the Monday Morning Reality Check: After five days of doting grandparents, plus Daddy being around, I was now the only source of attention for Elijah.

Neither of us dealt with it well.

Elijah whined. I snapped and seethed, impatient, irritable, resentful. I cried out for help, and snapped again, my morning an endless cycle of frustration, repentance, and repeated ugliness. I wished I could go to bed and start the whole day over again.

I stopped and confessed: Father, I am having such a hard time dying to self today.

I remembered my own words: Elijah is not an interruption to my agenda...he is my priority.

I thanked God that Jesus didn't pursue His own agenda, but instead prayed, "Not my will but YOURS be done."

And during a brief phone call, I listened to a friend say, "On days like today, I just have to accept that I'm not going to get anything else done. I have to love on my kids and let the rest go."

While Elijah napped, I ate leftover smoked turkey and apple-spinach salad and pored over wise words of grace and peace from Ann.

When he woke up, still slightly grumpy and begging for "Leleplh" (his cousin, Olivia--"Leleplh" is my terrible attempt to spell how he pronounces "Livi"--he loves to watch the videos my sister-in-law has posted online), I sat here with him on my lap, trying to breathe slow and deep, letting go of the to-do list, thanking God for our widescreen monitor as I browsed in another window while clicking through all 68 video clips (most are less than 30 seconds).

I scrapped my plans to package homemade cookies and take them to the post office this afternoon. I sat in the middle of the kitchen floor and read library books. I turned on "bebec" (music), and changed the song when it was apparently the WRONG bebec, and swayed and sang to my little grump.

Then I thought of a conversation I had with a friend recently. She shared how her husband is (wisely) wary of blogging because of the way we women put our best foot forward, sharing the polished versions of our lives. "Why don't you ever post pictures of the house when it's messy?" he challenged her.

I also thought of Ann Voskamp's ability to see beauty in the most mundane things. And so I grabbed my camera and documented a failure of a day. In this season when we all post warm, inviting pictures of our homes decorated beautifully for Christmas, I am inviting you to come tour my disaster.

Don't get me wrong, I think those holiday photos are fun--a friend of mine posted hers just this morning, and I loved the virtual tour of her beautiful home! But here at the Kannel house, in between Thanksgiving recovery and the trimming of the Christmas tree (which is currently still in the basement), we're just going to be real for a moment. Let me help you feel better about your mess.

Step in the back door and see three bags that need to be unpacked, library books strewn across the [ugly and in need of replacement] kitchen floor. The kitchen mess would be far more overwhelming if I used my wide-angle lens--but I was too lazy to change it.

Cookies I have never screwed up before, which I planned to bake and send to a friend this week: first batch completely flat (that has seriously never happened before, I have no idea why) and mangled coming off the sheet; second batch burned:

Cookie-baking dishes filling the sink:

Suitcases in the dining room, needing to be unpacked, laundry needing to be started:

Five days' worth of mail, meal planning paraphernalia, and other paper-clutter covering the dining room table...we'll have to clear a spot to eat...

Blocks scattered across the living room floor--meant to be cleaned up before we left last Tuesday, and forgotten in the rush to get on the road:

The long to-do list I foolishly expected to accomplish today (notice NOTHING is crossed off...you have no idea how twitchy that makes my type-A, anal-retentive self):

...And the basket-case-yet-still-adorable two-year-old who had other plans (and desperately misses Grandma, Grandpa, Uncle Duh, Grammy, Pops, Uncle Josh and Chief):

(I'm not being totally heartless by snapping this picture, by the way...there was no immediate crisis. Here he is upset because he doesn't like the song that's playing and wants a different one. EVERYTHING was just that big a deal today.)

So now that whiny mess of a toddler is sleeping again (apparently needing to catch up after our trip), and instead of tackling my list, I'm taking the time to blog. Perhaps not the best use of my time--or perhaps (I hope) it will encourage someone today.

Heaven forbid any of you ever come away from this blog with a polished, shiny picture of me. I am real. I am oh so flawed. And this is what my house looks like on a Monday after a weekend away. But I serve a God who makes the ugly beautiful...who brings order from chaos...who loves me even when I am a grumpy mess...and who has drawn my boundary lines in pleasant places, given me a beautiful inheritance--if only I will open my eyes to see it.