“LORD, look down from heaven; look from Your holy, glorious home, and see us.” Isaiah63:15
Sometimes in the midst of all the hustle and bustle of every day life we miss opportunities to sit back in awe of the many blessings that God has bestowed upon us. We get so preoccupied with where we’re going that we don’t stop to ponder on where we’ve been, or perhaps better yet, how far we’ve come.
This morning after the chaos of getting my family out the door I grabbed my Bible and plunked down in my rocking chair by the window to read for 20 before rushing off to join my first grader for a field trip to the zoo. My rear was no more in the chair than I felt my soul sink in too. As if somehow it too was resting it’s weary feet on a foot stool made for royalty.
As I started to read I came to today’s verse and smiled, looking up to see my own glorious home.
With a pile of masterpieces from the hands of a seven-year-old art prodigy on my kitchen table. Dishes mounting in the sink. Summer utensils and outdoor gear strewn about in the corner waiting for the mistress of the house to find them a new home. A desk covered in bills, paperwork from school and bits and pieces of things that children have left behind. Bedroom lights that never get turned off. I could go on but won’t.
If one of my more perfectionist customers from work could see my house right now they’d probably have a conniption fit and think something along the lines of, “my house NEVER looked like that when I had kids.” And she would probably be right. And that’s ok.
That was her glorious house. This is mine.
No. It’s certainly not the cleanest house I’ve ever been in. But it’s definitely my favorite because in every single inch and corner there is evidence that MY family lives here.
There’s the husband, who has been the love of my life these last twenty years, who avoids putting away the dishes as if his life depends on not touching the dish washer. Those dishes prove that he’s still there not doing them. (;-) I love you Darling!)
There’s the not so baby boy who leaves his bedroom light on all the time. He’s the one who scared the tar out of each and every one of us when he decided to come 6 weeks early and almost killed his mother doing so. And yet every time I turn that light off for him I smile inside that he’s actually here to leave it on. Thank You Jesus! May his light always shine so brightly that no one is able to turn it off!
Then there’s the vibrant little girl who has steadily turned colder in the last year from the struggle of her life. For some, school comes naturally, for others it’s hard work. In the last two years she has worked harder than any child should have to work to gain the ground she’s taken. And yet she’s taken it all at the point of a pencil! However, at some point enough is enough and a break from the struggle is necessary in order to save a spirit. Her break time came last Monday and not a moment too soon. And for a child whose weakness is language what better way to express those troublesome feelings than piles and piles of paintings and notebooks full of drawings? Those piles of papers on the table are proof of a God who has been there with her every single millimeter of the way, helping her (and us) through her own Valley of the Shadow of Death. (He was the One who told me to provide her with all the art supplies she wanted to help her cope. And she is loving it!)
Yes. My house may be a mess of dishes and lights and art paper. But it’s a glorious mess that proves that the Knochel family, MY Knochel family, lives here. And I wouldn’t trade that mess for the world!
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Parenting is hard! I remember watching my daughter learn how to walk. I wanted so much to keep holding her hand to prevent her from falling, but I couldn’t. If I did so, I would succeed in keeping her from falling, but I would also be hindering her ability to walk on her own – which IS the ultimate goal. And so to achieve that ultimate goal I had to let go. I had to watch her struggle to take those steps on her own. I had to watch her fall over and over again, occasionally hurting herself – although not usually. I had to stand by and let her fall, BUT I was ALWAYS there to pick her back up again. If she cried, I was ALWAYS there to cheer her back up and let her know it was going to be ok. If she hurt herself, I was ALWAYS there to clean her up and make it all better. I was always there for her.
