Yes. There is a real person behind this computer screen. A person who breaths. A person who needs to take a brief moment to do such.
Both of the kiddos are tucked in for nap and I’ve poured myself a delicious cup of coffee with cream and maple syrup. The perfect blogging companion. It doesn’t interrupt while I type or need any attention. It simply sits there, by my side, waiting for it’s moment of glory when my mouth meets it’s rim in pure delight.
Yep. Pure delight.
You know what’s not pure delight?
My house at this moment. In fact, it’s an abomination.
Don’t believe me? Welcome to my home:
The bed is typically made as soon as I roll out of it, but this morning, it quickly became overrun by four loads of neglected laundry that quickly established a home in it’s comfort.
Yes, laundry, I see you. Staring at me. Mocking me. Begging me to put you where you belong. In time, dear laundry.
Oh, hello temporary-replacement-desk-for-the-one-we-sold. It looks like you’ve been busy! It looks like some ridiculous blogger is trying to hammer out a cookbook or something in your midst. It also looks like she has a lamp fetish. Why doesn’t she take five minutes and put all those pieces of garbage in the trash and for heaven’s sake, remove those stinky lunch dishes?
Ah, now I see why. It’s because her kitchen is currently full of dirty dishes from making and photographing a few recipes for said cookbook. Sheesh. Why doesn’t she get it together? Doesn’t she know she functions better in a clean environment?
Lest you think I’m some blogging-robot. Here’s the reality, friends:
My sink is rarely free of dirty dishes.
Boxes litter my floors throughout the dining room, hallway, bathroom, bedrooms, and kitchen.
Georgia helps me label them.
Home brew has yet to find a home because of the packing, so instead, it rests on my kitchen floor. Random.
And lastly, Georgia has worn this skirt for six days in a row. It’s her ‘wed pwintess’ dress and she insists on wearing it. I did manage to wash it when she was sleeping, but she quickly drug it out of the washing machine without waiting for it to be dried. But so it goes.
Isn’t it a beautiful mess, though? As hard as it is to pack and move amongst finishing the cookbook and trying to figure out what the heck I’m going to do with this dairy cow, it all involves such joy and excitement! The boxes mean that soon I will be beginning another new adventure with my sweet family. The dirty dishes mean that I have been busy providing my family with homemade meals and nourishment. The laundry means we have clothes on our back and Lawd have mercy, a washing machine. And the cookbook work, although tedious and painstaking is about the coolest day job a stay-at-home-blogging-Mom could ask for.
It’s the beauty of the small things, isn’t it? The beauty of the messy day that truly reveals the Lord’s provisions and goodness to His children.
Like this sweet little curl that snuck out of Georgia’s ponytail. And the flower clip she insisted on wearing around the yard.
Today, I’m choosing to savor this wonderful chaos. I wouldn’t wish for it to be any other way.
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