Living through the imperfections

I sighed last night. My kitchen was a mess...again. I cannot, for some reason, get the two teens currently living there to find the garbage, and therefore, the kitchen counters accumulate wrappers, cans, bottles, twist ties....all the flotsam and jetsam of a kitchen.

Every Saturday, I face an avalanche of chores and laundry. Most people like their weekends - I just try to survive mine. It's worse now that we're in the midst of soccer season. Dear Husband not only coaches a local team, he's the president of the local soccer association, so once soccer season hits (twice a year!), I'm nearly a single parent.

I have a 16 year old son who is a functional mute, like most boys his age. He finds his tongue when money needs (in his opinion) to change hands. Dark-Haired Daughter tries her best, but with her disabilities, I often end up doing more work.

Yet.

Yesterday, I was feeling ill - found out I have an eye infection. That functionally mute son of mine brought me lunch, asked if I needed anything else, and tucked me into bed.

My daughter, who often must be told to tone down her makeup or take off a piece or two of jewelry or clothing, never fails to hug me hello or goodbye, to say she loves me, or to tell me how pretty I look. I often find notes tucked into a book I'm reading from her, saying she loves me.

I would love to walk into a clean house every day, and have it immaculately appointed. I really, really would. But I'm trading the other stuff. Even if it is really messy.

Comments

Trying to "end run" God

If you're a football fan, you know what an end run is. From Merriam-Webster:
a football play in which the ballcarrier attempts to run wide around the end of the line We try to "end run" God a lot. I do. I figure I know better. I've got this - no need to worry the Big Guy about such a trivial thing.

Of course, it never works.

Like the puppy above, when we try and evade the tough obstacle (even though we KNOW we will eventually have to do it), we end up - well, off in the bushes.

But oh! How I wished my way worked. I'd love to take a flying leap and land smoothly and gracefully. People would be in awe, as if watching Simone Biles nail a balance beam routine that no one else would even attempt. I would shyly look down and blush - just lightly - and acknowledge (But humbly! Oh so humbly!) my achievement.

But no: I am the one pulling myself out of the bushes, scratches all over my legs and twigs in my hair. I'd hear that gentle but loving voice of God saying, &quo…

Be Transfigured

From today's readings:

Jesus took Peter, James, and his brother, John, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. And he was transfigured before them; his face shone like the and his clothes became white as light.

...we possess the prophetic message that is altogether reliable. You will do well to be attentive to it as to a lamp shining in a dark place until day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.

Today we celebrate the Transfiguration. For whatever reason, Jesus brought three of His disciples to Mount Tabor to witness this miracle. They weren't sure what they were seeing, but they knew enough to throw themselves to the ground in the presence of Almighty God. St. Peter (who never did anything halfway) excitedly declares that he will erect tents on the mountain as a way of memorializing the event. But Jesus tells him and the others that they are not to tell people what they witnessed - at least not yet.

In the second reading, the requirement to be quiet has bee…

Crossing Guard

I saw you
today
as you guided
your little man across that busy street.

You were wearing some
big man boots
and
watching cars and lights.

Your little man had on
black sneakers and
a Mickey Mouse hat
that bounced
as he walked.

He wasn't watching nothing but
your big man boots
and
the white stripes of the crosswalk.

Just before
he got to the sidewalk again,
his step bounced a bit
- he hopped over
a spot where the asphalt broke.

You turned to look,
holding out a hand to
your little man.
Not rushed or angry,
just making sure
he got up
on that sidewalk.

Then you walked on,
in your big man boots,
face into a cold Michigan wind,
with the little man behind,
his hat bouncing.

Kissing the Leper

Search This Blog