the blessing of a messy house

Let me just start off with telling you all I’m kind of a neat freak.

Wait. I get anxious when my counters have stuff on them so that would really put me in the liking clean category. I’m such a neat freak I write about it. Often.

Therefore life with my kids has proven to be a challenge as my internal battle of cleanliness and order is met with the crazy utter chaos of childhood. Don’t get me wrong. My kids are good kids. For the most part.

But the house, well, it can be a battle.

I do get the six hours while they are at school where I carefully tidy everything back up before getting to work. Sometimes I look around and admire how the throw-pillows stay on the couch and breathe a sigh of relief when I walk in the kitchen. You know why? Because within second of getting home my house will gradually morph from order to crazy.

I used to resent the crazy.

Like really really really get irritated by it.

I’d think in my head if they really loved me they would keep the counter clean or if they really loved me they would see that towels on the floor in the bathroom irritate me or if they really loved me they wouldn’t leave the lids off of everything or well, you get it.

But, lately, more than ever, I’m starting to realize that the crazy isn’t crazy, but is rather a blessing.

It’s a blessing to have eighth graders who barely say a word to you but still come home to you day after day. It’s a blessing to have wrappers on the counter and splotches on the mirror. It’s a blessing to have homework piles and throw pillows on the floor. It’s a blessing to have laundry and rooms to vacuum. It’s a blessing because, well, it’s normal. It’s life. It’s motherhood.

It’s so easy to look at what others have and to think their life must not be as crazy as mine. Or to imagine that their vans don’t have crumbs tucked in the seats. Or any of it.

Oh sweet mom, even if you love the tidy just like me, what if the crazy and the messy house was actually a blessing?

It was of a family together. Trying. Navigating bumps together and sticking with each other no matter what.

Crazy doesn’t mean it’s not perfect.

In fact, life has to get messy in order for it to have moments of beautiful.

Next time you look around and think what a mess! I want you to think

What a blessing.

Yes, a blessing.

Because that mess is of a family, of a life, of a story being knit and woven and played out right now.

And that mess is profoundly and utterly beautiful.

~Rachel

ps. in case you doubted my neat freak self here’s a post (of many) that shares -> how cleaning clutter made me a better mom