Sometimes I look at my minivan, the crumb-covered floor, crayon-marked leather, and I think to myself this van is beyond hope. We’d have better luck starting new.
When I clean my bathroom, I instantly notice the mildew stain along the caulking near the floor, that same stain that’s been a part of my showering experience since we first moved into this house. I walk into any room in the house and see closets busting forth with clothes and other junk that I had forgotten existed. And I think it would be so much easier to just move into a new house, start fresh, than to deal with all this junk.
And sometimes, I crave the touch of a newborn curled into my chest. I crave the innocence of a new baby not yet showing the marks of our depraved nature. I remember the days of kids who were too small to sneak cookies or utter words of defiance. I miss new.
But today I said a different prayer. I thought that, perhaps, I don’t need new things or to start over with new babies (God, help me). Instead, I need new eyes. Eyes to see that under van seats with hidden toys and scary surprises is the potential to look brand-new with a little elbow grease (okay, that’s hyperbole. it could look better, though). Eyes to see that some new caulking and lots of deep breaths over many days of cleaning out a little at a time is the potential of a home that is de-cluttered but full of character. And eyes to see into those little souls and know exactly how to touch those sweet spots that crave cookies.
Linking up with The Gypsy Mama for her 5 Minute Friday (or in my case, 8 Minute Friday…I’ve decided that I have a slight disability that doesn’t allow me to think quickly. The time to get ideas from my brain to the keyboard is long, so I’ve allowed myself to bend the rules…but I still didn’t edit).