The Ugly and The Beautiful

The view of my kitchen sink

Last night was kinda ugly. Ugly in my spirit. 

It had been a truly refreshing day, being away from our house for hours. Away from the never-ending tasks that await in your own home. 

Then we returned and settled in again.

Within the hour, there was absolute chaos in the house. So much noise, so much busyness.

While I stood at the counter and over the stove preparing our meal, Zachary "cooked" next to me in his own white bowl. Adding salt, pepper, M&Ms, bread crumbs, and sprinkles to a portion of water and stirring. With great pride and extra tall posture, my son walked his dish to the dining room table, to set out for dinner. Then I heard a thud and "uh-oh." As I hurried to him, my eyes fell on the sight before me; all his ingredients splashed upon the carpet and a cloth-cushioned dining room chair. Bring on the towels, the cleaning supplies, the vacuum.

The baby starts crying.

Another son needs to be changed.

The vacuum starts up.

Dinner is still needing prepared.

The mail is on the counter.

The dryer buzzes.

Someone wants juice in a water bottle.

Stir some baby cereal and sweet potatoes at the high chair.

Forgot I had a voicemail from my father-in-law.

My eldest son decided to make another "dish" for our dinner. Only by the time I get back in the kitchen, a utensil drawer was opened under the counter where he worked, and Zachary's newest food creation dripped down into that drawer and onto spatulas and graters and whisks. This time it was bread crumb-water. Seeping into the corners of the drawer.

My jaw is clenched. My brow is furrowed. Trying so hard to keep my words within and not express my absolute impatience and frazzled inner processing. No one to witness this whirlwind. How I wish there had been someone. Just to share "a look." Receive a reassuring smile, pat on the back that soon I could breathe again.

After dinner we clean up.

A son still slouching at the dinner table, refusing to obey.

A baby requiring care.

The aquarium needs cleaned.

A son desiring to help wipe the glass of the tank. Aquarium wetness spreads onto the carpet. His concentrated look shows he is doing his best. But my jaw clenches so tightly, and my spirit continues growing in its ugliness. 

After the baby is contented once more, I begin my task of scrubbing the aquarium rocks and plants, as Nate completes the other tank cleaning work. I turn on some of "my music" to work to, to try to settle my muddled, weary self when I hear noisy bursts from another room. 

Noises of bickering brothers. 

Figuring out their positions in this world. 

Learning how to negotiate, to compromise, to be generous, to bless another. 

(At times like these, the learning is going so very slow.) 

Intervention time for this momma to care for those brothers. Leaving the kitchen and my scrubbing. Reminding my sons how to show love. Returning to my scrubbing. So tense, so tired from the never-ending...

Needs to be met. More scrubbing. Tight jaw.

I try so hard to do all this on my own. 

To prove something? To whom?

Is there a "Good Momma Meter"? Doesn't it seem like it?

(Good spouse, Good worker, Good citizen, on and on.)

Sigh. I just want someone to notice. This continuing striving and struggling to hold together a "house perfect" and a house of peace. I wish I didn't hold these desires so tightly every moment, but they are the deep longings of my heart. To seem to have it together... to prove something? (Once again, that theme.) Prove success... That I am wise? Capable? To be mimicked? 

To what end?

Then I received in that moment a gift beyond my expectation.

I sensed someone approaching me as I stood at the kitchen sink, frizzy ponytail and water running full blast. I felt strong arms encircle my shoulders and remain. My husband. Giving life to this weary heart. Those words. Overflowed with love.

"We are in this together. We are a team. Don't forget that." 

I wish I could say the evening smoothed itself out after those moments over the kitchen sink. (The one teaming over with dishes drying in the rack. Those utensils that had needed to be washed clean after the bread crumb recipe dripped in their drawer. And the sink filled with fish rocks, plants, aquarium ship.) The life of this young family of 5 carried on its crazed summer nighttime routine, a bit crazier that usual. 

But. 

I was reminded of the love around me. 

From Nate. 

From my God. Who somehow cares about these overwhelming minutes in my life, in addition to all those millions of other lives being lived on this globe. Yet it is true that HE SEES ME. And He SEES all the moments. Ugly and Beautiful. I am not alone, on this journey of striving. And I can strive toward Him, instead of toward that same self-dependence that always fails.

Here are some encouraging words I read this past week:

"There is something about being seen, really seen, that changes everything, because it changes the way we see ourselves- just knowing we are seen by God makes all the difference...

We feel forgotten, or worthless, or like failures. We're sure we don't measure up, that we're not enough for God or anyone else...

Because the more you come to see yourself through God's eyes, the closer you'll move toward becoming who you were really meant to be...

"He offers the gifts of forgiveness and redemption. And He never, ever gives up on you... He doesn't just focus on what you do wrong. He notices AND CELEBRATES what you do right."

-Tammy Maltby, "The God Who Sees You" (taken from an EXCELLENT article in "Power for Living")

May you feel deep in your soul today that you are BEING SEEN and you are LOVED.

Isaiah 49:16 "Look, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands."

Blessings to you!

Elizabeth