I want to write, I say.
But I’m not feelin’ it.
Make a list of the objects that are around you, she says. Just play with the list.
I look around.
It’s a long list.
A messy list.
Stacks of photo albums in blue and brown and red and pink.
A half-eaten peanut butter cup (not mine.)
The two Keepsake tree ornaments “to honor our feelings of loss” I impulse bought for Sissy and niece.
My pink and white bag filled with bills and receipts and a favorite book.
My suitcase is still in the corner of the living room where I left it a week ago Sunday, even though I sleep downstairs.
There’s a hairbrush and an empty water bottle.
A bright primary-colored (mostly yellow) maraca and a green alligator on wheels–or is it a dinosaur?
The clutter, it’s everywhere.
It spills into every room.
It’s too overwhelming to list it all.
The place is a mess.
But it’s a mess that speaks of priorities.
Of things that came first.
It’s a mess that speaks of fatigue and grief.
And it’s a mess that can make us laugh.
Laughing is good, I think.
I think about how Jesus plopped down right in the middle of a mess.
And how He’s there in the middle of all of our messes.
And how He’s here now in this tower of sympathy cards and in the handwritten words and in the gifts given in her memory.
And in the tears I held back and in the few I let fall today.
And I think that I sit in the midst of a holy mess.
Because He is in its midst.
And I’m feelin’ it.
God went for the jugular when he sent his own Son. He didn’t deal with the problem as something remote and unimportant. In his Son, Jesus, he personally took on the human condition, entered the disordered mess of struggling humanity in order to set it right once and for all. ~Romans 8:3 (Message)
Joining my cross-eyed, Y-seeing friend, Jennifer,
in community this week.
And linking up with sweet Emily and company as we spill crumbs
of prose and praise.
And joining Faith Barista Bonnie and her gang as we unwrap Jesus.