On the way home from a baby shower tonight, I thought about typing this as my facebook status:
I made two lasagnas AND our family dinner, went shopping, got two presents ready, and paid bills today. Yeah, I'm tempted to think I'm awesome, too. Except that my house is a wreck from rug to rafter.
As I said, I thought about typing this but never did. That's because when I walked in the door this evening, my house was not a wreck. My dishes were washed. The floor was devoid of toys, blankets, shoes, and what have you. Even my bills/papers that were strewn across the kitchen floor were put into three neat piles on the desk: file, current bills, do something.
I was relieved, really. I'd been preparing myself to tuck the kiddos in bed and stay up until 11 cleaning up and watching Dick Van Dyke on hulu (which, really -- if you're going to be cleaning by yourself late into the night -- is the way to do it).
But I also felt a little guilty. Jason had a long day that started at 3:30am. I'm sure the last thing he needed to do was come home to a house that looked like the salvation army -- after it blew up. And I'm sure the last thing he needed to do was clean it up. But he did. And even left the girls and I a huge "I love you" note on the table.
I wanted to apologize to Jason for the way I left the house, but he wouldn't let me. It made me wonder if I'd even felt that way toward God. God, I didn't mean for your Son to have to die for me. I didn't mean to be a hopeless mess. I just couldn't help it. But I'm so sorry you had to do that for me. Next time, I'll do better.
That seems almost laughable to me, because I know that God's reaction to that is the same reaction Jason had to me. Stop it. All you have to say is 'thank you'. I did it because I love you.
Ah, mercy. It's so funny that at the same time we are so grateful and so guilty to receive what we do not deserve. Here's to just being grateful.
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