It’s not going so great this week. The kids are wildly ready for school to start. There are six or so different workers at the house all day long making a huge mess painting, and piling my furniture on top of eachother. Our builder is installing shelves in the pantry, so every food item is spewed all over the kitchen. Four cabinets for the coffee and tea were painted white from a dark walnut, so all of the delicate china and tea is scattered everywhere. I’m longing to cook in my new kitchen and eat at our table as a family. I don’t honestly know when that day will be. We want to run away all day long and escape the mess. On the one hand it’s wonderful to get it painted and fixed, but enduring the process right now is a hardship with Kira. Where I was so excited about our progress last week, I feel like it’s lost this week.
I contemplated giving in to my frustrations and having myself a fit, right after the painter broke some of my pottery. I took a nap instead.
I’m on the verge of indulging in pity fiestas for myself. I seem to collapse in complete disorder, mirroring the mess in the house with my own coping capabilities. This is something I don’t like to learn about myself. I can usually flow fairly easily from various circumstances but I feel plugged up. I had to have an intervention with myself.
Don’t we all have that thing that completely gets us undone? Oh, please tell me it is so. I don’t want to be alone here in my dysfunction.
On one hand I could melt down, or on the other I could turn my back to the mess, put a hold on this week and expect to accomplish nothing and enjoy my children being home for the last week of the summer. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Jordan is practicing his driving, and today hopefully he will get his license. Kevin and Jack have begun tennis lessons, and soon I will get their schedule from the music school. We have joined a fitness club and tennis club so we can go and relax and forget that our home is a wreck. We’d go exploring but it’s so hot and miserable outside, which is to be expected in August in the south.
So, I tossed up my hands and stopped trying to fight the mess the workers are making. I feel suddenly free. What’s one week? That’s not an easy shrug for me to make, because my time is golden, but I’m hopeful that I can do this. I tell myself, “It won’t stay this crazy”. At sometime it’s going to smooth out and there will be a calm and quiet and cleanliness in my home that makes all my nerves fall into a nice neat row. This calm is necessary for me to think, create, plan, and dream.
Meanwhile something remarkably wonderful has occurred because of my stress. I have a voracious appetite for the red letters in the bible. I need to hear the voice of Jesus, and remember all of his promises, and character qualities as an example for me to follow. I feel the companionship in my loneliness, and the assurance that I can make it through these messy days. I would expect to feel terribly lonely, but I haven’t felt so for a minute. I suppose, if it takes this kind of stress to bury my nose in the words of Jesus, it’s a good thing. And, just in case, I keep this nearby…