Building My House

The wisest of women builds her house,
but folly with her own hands tears it down.
~ Proverbs 14:1

What does it look like to build my house,
Invisible work to the world?
Thru daytime and nighttime,
The hours stretch long,
And often little fiscal reward is given.

What does it look like to build my house,
To fill the days and hours –
With training and discipline, toys and books,
And teaching small ones of God’s power?

What does it sound like to build my house –
Does wisdom drop from my lips?
Are my words gentle, kind or upset?
Do they teach, even thru tears?

What does it smell like to build my house –
Do I bear the aroma of Christ?
Or do I instead feed the stench of self?
Of pettiness, complaints, divides?

What does it feel like to build my house?
Do guests find a welcome haven?
Are children loved and listened to and nourished,
Or instead ignored and pushed away?

What does it feel like to build my house?
Is it all right to sometimes be tired?
Do mothers need rest and slowing down and food?
Perhaps, that, too, is required.

What house am I building?
What do I tear down?
There is no ambivalent option.
Because each day I hold in my hands
The power to choose love or destruction.

I can build up my house
With faith, hope and love,
Encourage the souls that are near.
I can tear out the bad to leave room for the good,
And help us walk heavenward while here.

Or I can build on my fears and my worries,
My selfishness or my own sin.
And so with my hands tear apart that gift,
A stewardship given from Him.

What will I do,
This day, this hour?
It lies in my hands to decide.
Every choice counts –
And every choice is helped,
Because I have Christ by my side.

Photo by Hunter Haley on Unsplash

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