My post yesterday convicted me.
Remember my note to self —Toys can look either messy or beautiful depending on perspective. I’m trying to see them the latter way.– and the picture?
I started to ponder how many times I’ve said —
Clean up that mess
— to my kids.
What if that in my eyes mess was in fact their fabulous creation?
What if those Lincoln Logs were time spent in play only to be regarded as simply messy?
What am I teaching them?
They’re teaching me. To watch the words that oh, so, quickly leave my mouth. To listen to the phrases, the intonation, and the meaning. To wonder if the words empower or leave little ones with hearts that are slightly crushed. Defeated. Maybe sad that their creativity was lumped into mom’s phrasing at clean-up time as a mess.
So I’m not going to say that anymore for an afternoon of toys spread out. I’m going to reserve the word mess for those times when it really really really is a mess — and even then I’m hoping to pause just for a moment before those four little letters leave never to return.
If you look really closely, maybe squint, or use that dusty childlike imagination you can start to see beauty in the randomness of wood strewn about my family room floor. Remember? Remember the freedom in a sunny afternoon spent sprawled on the floor creating a world?
It’s of brothers interacting. Laughing. Doing life. Learning.
I’m so grateful that I was reminded.
It’s a glorious creation.
And the farthest thing possible from a mess.