Removing Layers: The Beauty of Again and Again

Last night around midnight, I finished up the last of the day's household chores. I wanted to stay up and get them done so I could have a fresh start tomorrow with everything checked off the list. With the reward of "being done" firmly fixed in my mind, I washed the dishes from my late-night pizza crust baking for guests that would arrive tomorrow and tackled one of my least favorite jobs--scrubbing the toilet and bathtub and taking out the trash.

Liam woke up at 5 this morning and decided to start the day. I attempted to help him help him get back to sleep for two hours with no luck. So, we proceeded with breakfast. I opened a can of prunes (aka controlled mess) depitted and spread them all over his high chair tray, along with a lots of pieces of mushy banana. Liam LOVES prunes and he loves feeding himself. And the prunes loved him if attachment is any sign of affection. Every inch of grinning Liam was covered in prunes and banana by the end of the meal.

I gave  him a bath in the freshly cleaned tub, too tired to even grimace about the potential impact on the cleaning I had just done. Bathing dirty little boys are what tubs are made for!

Not more than two hours into our day, the sink is now full of breakfast dishes, the freshly cleaned tub coated with a layer of prunes and banana. Thank goodness the trash can is at least filling again slowly.
And I must clean those things before lunch!

I am struck by the power of the things that must be done again and again.

Days like this sometimes make me want to throw in my scrub brush. What's the point? It will all just get messy again right away. I remember a friend (mother of five) once said to me. "You have to think of cleaning a house with children like removing layers. Yes, the freshly mopped floor may have a glass of juice spilled on it within seconds, but it is at least one layer less dirty than it would have been."

So true!! And the more I think about it, there is something beautiful in the service of things that must be done again. They are a quiet service to my family, a part of the fiber of our home. Think of the constancy and beauty in breathing, sunsets, whispered prayers,waking up--all must be done again and again.

 I consider God's  mercy as he disciplines me and guides me and forgives me and over and over listens to my prayers. He doesn't neglect me just because he has "been there done that." He is a constant of unconditional love.

So as I head for the bathroom to remove a couple layers from the tub, I smile to myself. I'm thankful for the reminder that God is an expert on things that need doing again and again and I'm so glad He is. Maybe when these chores are "done," I'll find myself reflecting a little bit more of Him.

Mission accomplished: We found a home!

This is a spoiler post, hopefully soon to be followed by pictures of our new place. But people are living there until the end of the month and I just couldn't wait that long to tell you we FOUND A PLACE TO LIVE!!!! After emailing, viewing, calling and, ahem, stalking over 50 places, we mentioned our house hunt to a friend at church who just so happened (what?!) to be renting a picturesque little cottage in a village on the outskirts of Oxford, within our time frame and our price range. That very day, we went over for tea, viewed the house and enjoyed getting to know our church friends a little better. (Did I mention the cottage shares a driveway with their home, which is my dream house (aged timbers, stone walls, cool textures, lots of trees, a lily pond in the garden out back). So the cottage gets cool points just for proximity to our friends AND their amazing home.
I wouldn't say it's perfect ...The cottage doesn't have any closets, and if anyone has to go to the bathroom, you have to take a tour through the entire house, jump over a sleeping baby and waltz through our bedroom to go, but it is perfect for our situation right now and an absolute knock my socks off blessing from the Lord. He has such great timing. There's even a corner store for last-minute groceries, a bus stop and a playground, an old fashioned English Inn/Pub just down the street. We can bike to the city in 15 minutes  and we're super close to a woodsy-looking bike path that has promise (need to buy those bikes soon!).
We walked past the house at twilight last week and listened to the village church bells pealing and the goodnight song of thrushes, breathed in honeysuckle and watched the sun melt like butter and spread out over Port Meadow. What a sense of peace and provision. I look forward to making this place home.

Hunting for houses ... searching for perfection?

The perfect house will make me perfect. Or at least that's the false impression I was under a few weeks ago as I feverishly searched classifieds and online postings, researched neighborhoods and scanned photos looking for classy furnishings, wood floors and stainless steel to catch my eye (all with a bargain price tag, right? Not gonna happen).
I don't think I would have taken it so far as to think the house would actually make me perfect, but I was certainly hoping it would make me more organized, efficient, happy, stylish, sociable and peaceful--pretty tall order for four walls and a roof, don't you think? I know it sounds ridiculous, but I pretty much was certain that all that would happen as soon as we unpacked boxes in a new place (and I implemented the perfect new organization system, of course.)
As the search went on, with little promise of finding anything close to perfect, the threat that I may need to make do in less than ideal circumstances came to mind (shock of shocks). It was then that I realized how much weight I was putting on my "new" house to bring about a sense of well-being and identity. I wanted to be one of the cool kids in the neighborhood.
The silliness with which I was engaging came to life in a blog post I read not long ago.  The article I stumbled upon was written by a gal who was always on the move. She described her realization that the perfect house wasn't going to be her fulfillment in life.
As obvious as that sounds, I realized that as much as I LOVE fresh starts, a new apartment, no matter how great--or not so great--will not make or break my life or significantly alter who I am.
It's so easy to think that with the right kind of storage space or the right kind of artistic flavor to a place, I will suddenly be more organized, have more free time, be a better wife and friend and mother,  and pretty much just get cooler in general. If your place says a lot about you, by golly, I want it to say good things!
While I haven't given up on striving to be the best I can be, I am reminded that I won't be unpacking a newer, better version of myself on moving day. So I pass my reminder on to you: It's great to strive to improve yourself, but be careful you don't set up an idol of sorts by living in the "if onlys."
In my current apartment, in the skin I happen to be in, with all my flaws and strengths, I can live by grace day by day, strive to grow, and forget the race for a better image or a quick fix that a certain material possession or life circumstance can provide.
Contentment ... what a challenging and rewarding lesson this can be! I pray I can be content in all circumstances and the deep joy that is my wellspring would flow to those around me ... whether those around me are lounging on brushed Italian leather couches or pulling up a mismatched straight back from the charity shop.
I'll let you know when we find the perfect house ;)