Chaos reigns in my home. There is homework, laundry, and dirty dishes in never-ending quantities. “Mom!” is hollered from every corner of the house as I am called upon to find Legos, untangle doll hair, sign a teacher’s note, and decipher a math problem. This is my world, where the work is mundane.
In my secret mind I am in Nepal, caring for trafficked children and bringing the gospel to the dark corners of the Himalayas. I hike through the streets of Kathmandu, clasping my hands and greeting the elderly with “Namaste.” I cry for their poverty and delight in their resourcefulness. In my dream world, the work is important.
To the Enemy I am a failure, an impatient mother of four who prefers escaping into a British novel to playing Monopoly with the children. The house suffers from poor time management skills, and rings with the shouts of frayed nerves. To his delight, I often prefer my own meager reserves to the limitless joy and kindness the Spirit offers. In his world, I am ashamed.
To the Lord, I am a child: beloved, treasured, and accepted. I am worth the effort and the death, a daughter of great price. I am an integral part of his plan for the redemption of the lost. His world is my true home.
The turmoil increases late in the afternoon, when Daddy calls and says a meeting will keep him late. As we enter the five o’clock ‘witching hour,’ the children's bickering intensifies. I feel empty as I stand in the wreckage of a ruined day. A choice lies before me, one that will chart the course for our evening:
Am I the war-torn missionary of my dreams?
Am I the shameful failure of the Enemy?
Am I the Beloved of the Father?
I know who’s right, and in a rare quiet moment while cooking supper, I agree with the Lord.
I am his creation, acting in obedience to the life he has chosen for me. A rush of peace overwhelms me as I join what God is doing here and now.
Yes, I am made for this messy life. I embrace it.
As the Spirit and I agree I am filled with his bounty of gifts, and they overflow to my children. Peace and joy rule this evening in my disheveled, God-given existence.
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