by Faith Bogdan
I woke up on the wrong side of the house this morning—the catastrophic side.
I was mad. “Somewhere on this planet there are children who pick up after themselves without being asked!” I
yelled said in a slightly elevated voice. (Though I wasn’t exactly sure it was true.)
Then I lost it.
I really lost it. Four pairs of eyes watched me punctuate the last three words by stomping my foot on. the. floor. I left them cleaning, soberly, of their own volition.
I came back later and walked into a restaurant. Apron-clad chefs and servers bustled about at lunch hour. Would I like to join them, they asked? A quick visual survey revealed a room finally uncluttered enough put my nerves to rest. I decided a hurried “lunch out” wouldn’t hurt.
I took a seat. Party of one. How long had this restaurant been in business? I wondered.
I browsed the menu.
“Would you care for some mac-and-cheese?” The young waitress asked.
“No thank you,” I said. “I’ll have the leftover meatloaf from last night. Wouldn’t want you to have to throw that out.”
“Could I interest you in a pickle chips appetizer?” She was a natural.
“Yes, if you have any left of the hot-sweet variety.” I said.
Lunch was served. The wait staff dined with me. It was gracious of them. I looked them in the eyes and fully owned the morning’s words and actions, owing nothing to hormones.
Children forgive so easily.
We ate together—they, full of happy, leg-swinging chatter. Me, finally drinking it all in.
They had a decent handle on ambiance. Classical guitar and candles. Better than most places. “Please feel free to write a review,” the manager said as I left the table. I was already planning on it. Five star. Best meal for the money.
I walked around the premises of the restaurant. I strolled through the adjoining rooms. There were things I never noticed before. Namely, everything.
How had I missed the craft amid the clutter?
When did I stop seeing, stop living? When did I stop stopping?
Somewhere along the way I have traded in homemaking for housekeeping.
But my own heart I have not kept.
“Guard your heart with all diligence, for out of it flows the issues of life.” Proverbs 4:23
I hid myself away from the wait staff and sat on the edge of my bed and cried.
How long will I keep going, going, going until I go off on them all over again because I refuse to see—savor—the spirit-food they provide in the middle of my selfish desert of neat and orderly living?
My life and all its demands for cleanness has been sterile for too long.
I want to keep discovering my children while there is still time, while there is still a mess in which to make discoveries.
About the Author
Faith Bogdan is the author of the book, “Who Are All These Children and Why Are They Calling Me Mom?” She writes and speaks to moms and general audiences about living “well loved” by God, and also serves alongside her husband as co-pastor of Wellsburg Neighborhood Church in Wellsburg, New York. Faith and Dave reside in a “little cabin in the big woods” in the rolling hills of northern Pennsylvania with their four girls. You can click here to visit her blog.
We’re giving away a copy of Faith’s book to one of you! Faith will be speaking at the Raising Generations Today Conference in March 2014. Be sure to stop by the Raising Generations Today site to see what’s new and how you can connect.
To enter, use the rafflecopter form below.
Giveaway ends on July 9, 2013 at 12:00 am.
Congratulations to Katie Anderson Labosier for winning this giveaway!