We have a puppy. A very big puppy. She’s 4 months old and already over 60 pounds. It looks like PetSmart vomited all over our house.
I have two sons and a husband. Somehow papers, bouncy balls, lone socks and half empty water glasses are covering the areas that are not already occupied by said puppy explosion.
And then there’s me. By no means super organized, tidy or clutter-free by any means, but craving order and sparkly clean no less. (key word = craving)
And that’s just our home.
Enter our lives – we have the chaos of activities, challenges of balancing work and home, spontaneous unplanned family outings — and the inherent messiness that defines all relationships. Mess is everywhere.
And I’m okay with it, because there is so much love within our mess. Our perfectly imperfect messy sort of life.
When friends stop by I used to get so embarrassed. “Clean up FAAAASSSSSTTTT!!!!” as the doorbell rang. Frantically wiping down the counter and shoving piles of paper into an already full junk drawer.
But, today when my friend walked into my puppy-dominated-cluttered-home and sat down at the table to share her mess with me, looking for someone to listen without judgement and let her know she was not alone, I knew she didn’t see the dog toys under her feet or the baseball caps hanging on the chair. And if she did, she certainly didn’t care.
Nor did I.
We all have our own mess. Whether it’s the “stuff” in our home, the “stuff” in our mind or the “stuff” in our relationships. We are all trying to clean something up … pretty much most of the time.
I’m not saying I’m not gonna try to pick up the mess, but I’m no longer going to apologize for it. My life is a bit messy by nature. Many of our lives are. It’s the fallout of all we’re trying to do and accomplish while still finding time to enjoy our limited time together.
I promise I will never judge you for your mess, whatever it looks like. And I welcome you into mine.