I’ve been sick for the past two days and although I haven’t been able to go to bed early, or take naps, I’ve been given rest.
My girls slept for over three hours yesterday during afternoon naps, and are going on three hours today.
I was able to watch a few shows while working online and drinking tea as the wind raged outside.
I often watch home shows in the background as I work. Something about looking at different homes in different locations and done in different styles, fascinates me. However, I am often irritated by the complaints of the home buyers.
“It’s too small” (over 2,000 square feet).
“These appliances are dated” (less than five years old, but white).
“This bathroom has to be gutted!” (1950’s tile).
I often want to grab them and shake them and scream, “Are you kidding me?!”
I want to bring them to my home, my 816 square foot home, and say, “You have so much. Don’t you see it?”
I want to show them orphans and poverty-stricken nations and just open up their eyes!
Now, I know that they are not bad people because of this. If I could afford a bigger or more updated home, I would buy it as well.
But, more and more I am realizing how unnecessary so many things are. I am realizing how miraculous it is that I am safe and warm inside our cozy home while the storm rages outside. I am realizing how much is truly enough.
This home, this phase: it is our reality. It is our story. It is going to shape us and shape our children.
As I was reading The Mission of Motherhood, by Sally Clarkson, the other day I was so touched by what she said when discussing the sacrifices mothers often make to be able to stay home with their children.
“Even though those times were hard, the Lord provided and sustained us. Those lean years turned out to be precious ones, years in which much of my foundation of faith was laid.”
How beautiful. I pray that I will not squander this time with worry over what is to be or what is not possible or what I want, but that instead the foundation of my faith, and that of my children’s faith, will be laid.