I’m wondering how my boys can mess their room up in under ten minutes. It doesn’t seem fair — they seem to have a gift for creating chaos. Yet, they tell me that they “needed that lone lego piece” for their set. That piece which happens to be on the bottom of the lego box.
And, yes, I’ve taken away toys.
And, yes, they help me clean up.
They still make the messes.
They call them — their sets.
So are they really messes??
Whose lens, whose eyes am I looking at the pile of toys arranged on their beds. Am I looking at them through the parent’s eyes — eyes that are fatigued, and not wanting to clean? Or am I looking at them through the eyes of my five year old inventor.
To him — my idea of a mess — is his idea of beauty.
Ironic, isn’t it? Somehow I knew there would be a lesson for me. I just knew it. God loves to teach me through my children. My lesson? That my messy life — not put together, with all my struggles and insecurities, and failings, and sorrows can be beautiful.
Beauty that is defined by the Lord. Not me. Or the world. Or others. But, Him, my Creator.
And gradually, what I perceive as a mess can become beautiful.