It’s Your Choice

Yours are the hands wiping poo and spitup, drool and vomit, and tears.

Yours are the hands loading and unloading dishes from the dishwasher – a never ending stream.

Yours are the hands preparing food that gets smeared across table, chairs and clothes.

Yours are the hands sweeping grass and pebbles and dried cheerios from under the table, multiple times a day.

Yours are the feet stepping across tiny matchbox cars and legos and stubbing your toes on fire trucks.

Yours is the voice reading the same book, over and over and over again.

Yours are the hands cleaning the toilet, again, today.

Yours are the hands and legs, wearily pulling on clean pants, knowing that they will soon be slimed by something sticky or wet or both.

And yet.

Yours are the hands of love and service. Yours are the arms that are a place of safety and grace. Yours are arms where it’s ok to be messy or sick. It’s ok to cry there.

Yours is a kitchen blessed with food and dishes, recipes and traditions, old and new. Yours is a kitchen that is used and not wasted, a place where small hands learn to reach and grab and small legs dangle from countertops. Yours is a kitchen where little ones lick their fingers and wrap their arms around your legs. Yours is a kitchen where songs are sung and dinner is cooked, because both must happen to survive the day.

Yours is a home that’s lived in. A home where memories are made, love is felt, and life is lived. Yours is a home where little feet pitter patter and where little giggles are heard. Yours is a home that is filled with toys, yes, but also family. Yours is a home that gets dirty because it has people. It gets dusty because it gets used.

Yours is a home filled with books – Bible books, song books, funny books, tearful books. Yours is a home where little children beg to be read to because they know the magic that comes from the written word. Yours is a home that knows the closeness of a parent with a child, cuddled close, on a lap, heads pressed together as you share not just the book but the time, the love, the experience.

Yours is a home where people get sick and get well. Yours is a home that is not a model or a magazine but useful, practical, and functional. Yours is a home with running water and working plumbing, a luxury often overlooked in our world today. Yours is a home that is blessed.

Yours is a home with clothes enough to spare, where an outfit can be changed without worry. Yours is a home where children can get dirty because they’re children and where you can get dirty because you care for them. Yours is a home where things are just… things – and things can get dirty and old and worn – because the more important part – the people – are valued.

Yours is a choice to be made. To choose the drudgery or to see the children. To complain or to cheer those around you. To choose to look heavenward or to choose to warp selfishly inward. And Lord, please help me choose the better part.

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