My Life. Beautiful, Ugly, Unfiltered.
My Life Song
“It’s my Worship” she said….
I felt the light come on in my spirit. You know the one. The one that illuminates what was just said and you hear God say– “That was just for you”.
It was a Wednesday night, and my very good friend Rebeccah was speaking to the youth about worship. I,on this particular night, was chasing Astaire and trying to keep her from falling down the concrete stairs, or pulling random students’ hair, and of course the biggest task of all; attempting to muffle her random squeals of excitement when she broke free from my arms. Needless to say, I have little recollection of what Rebeccah spoke on that night. In fact, I packed up my things early and went home because it was 8 o’ clock and the score was Astaire 5, Mama 0. I was exhausted.
“It’s my worship”… she said.
If I heard nothing else that night, I heard that. Why?
She was talking about housework. That’s right. Laundry. Dishes. Cleaning. Cooking….and Repeat.
I have been so blessed to be able to stay home with my daughter. When I got laid off during my pregnancy, I counted it a blessing to be able to be away from the pressure and stress of the environment I worked in and to be able to relax and focus on my pregnancy. I spent countless hours on the internet educating myself about nursing, cloth diapers, and Attachment Parenting. Then I had Astaire, and I was busy with newborn things, like holding her all day while she napped on my chest, and memorizing her little face. But now she is walking, and talking and making messes everywhere….and somebody has to clean this mess up!
“It’s my Worship” she said…
“That’s for you” God said….
In order to keep me home cleaning messes and raising our daughter, my amazing husband works 4, and that is not a typo…FOUR jobs. He works an average of 80 hours a week, wakes up most days when some people are just going to bed, and still manages to tuck Astaire into bed every night. He is by far the best husband and father we could ask for.
I got God’s message that night…loud and clear. We each have our contribution to the family, and it is equal if we make it.
I’m choosing now to look at my contribution to this family as less of a chore and more of an act of worship. It’s less discouraging that way. When I walk through the house cleaning and I turn around to see it has vomited all over itself again, it can’t be upsetting to me. This is where my family lives and loves. This is where my children will learn who God really is. This is where we call home….