Crumbs on my floor

I thought I was over it.  I thought I was doing better.  But then I lost it over crumbs on my floor.  It is funny to me that I once wanted a rug to go under the dining table.  Silly me; what was I thinking?

The toddler boy wanted Mini-Wheats and I had just mopped the floor while he was at school and the baby was sleeping.  I gave him his snack, but then shreds of cereal kept falling to the table and the floor.  My least favorite chore these days is cleaning the table and the floor underneath because it seems to never stay clean.  The Nester says in her book that her mom thinks clean floors make for a clean house.  And my dining room floor can't seem to stay clean. 

I confess that I ranted about crumbs.  I told the toddler to eat quickly and that he could only eat those for breakfast from now on, once a day, because I couldn't clean floors all day long.  I vowed to only buy the name brand from now on because surely it didn't shred and leave crumbs as easily as this store brand.  I threatened nap time; I lost it.

I went to put the boy down early for his nap because of the crumbs.  I can't remember if we sang or read, but I'm sure we did one or the other.  He got in bed.  I covered him up.  I went to put the baby down.  When I finished, I could still hear the boy singing. 

I normally don't go in, but this time I did.  I went in and his smile beamed.  I asked him if he wanted to sing again, and he did.  I kneeled on the floor beside him, rubbed his precious hair and face, and sang "You Are My Sunshine" and "Jesus Loves Me."  Those are our songs.  His sweet face gave forgiveness when I apologized.  Then his sweet voice said,  "Bye, Mom," and my heart skipped a beat. 

How does this precious one love and live so fully and forgive so easily? 

Forgive me, Lord.  And thank You for this boy...and for crumbs on my floor.

Photo by Lauren Hutchinson of Desilu Photography

The Nester

Washing dishes used to annoy me.  I do them, they reappear, and so it goes.  They are always there, never an empty sink.  Then I read Myquillen Smith's book, The Nesting Place: It Doesn't Have to Be Perfect to Be Beautiful, and she said something like this: As long as there are people living in your house, you will always have laundry and dishes to do.  It's a fact of life.  They will never, for more than a brief period of time, be completely done and clean. 

You would think this was common knowledge, but for me it was a revelation.  As long as there are people living in my house, it is OK to not have an empty laundry hamper and spotless, pristine sink.  Those things are signs of life.  It is not a realistic, achievable goal, even for a stay-at-home mom, to never have laundry or dishes to do.  It simply is not. 

Another thing I learned from her; it doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful.  This was a big one for me.  I previously only thought perfection was beautiful. 

White undershirt with a stain that would never be seen because it's an undershirt, not acceptable.  Odd numbers or asymmetry, not acceptable.  One vertical and one horizontal, not acceptable.  Curves with straight lines, not acceptable.  Gut feelings over logic, not acceptable. 

Until now.  There are two pictures on my mantle, one of each son, and one is vertical and one is horizontal.  Why?  Because my gut liked those two pictures.  Previously, I wouldn't let myself do that, but now I know that it doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful.  I did it, and it is not symmetrical, but it is beautiful. 

I thoroughly enjoyed reading Myquillen's book, and I highly recommend it.  It is filled with beautiful, thoughtful pictures of her own homes.  She's lived in 14 houses in 18 years, and most of them were rentals.  It is part design, part theology, and part let-yourself-live book.  I wasn't planning on gaining so much wisdom from it, but I did.  This book was recommended by, of course, none other than Jen Hatmaker.