BEAUTIFUL MESS
It is quiet in my house at the moment, two off to school, one off to work. But while there is silence, there is not calm.
Shoes crowd the entrance to my stairwell. We have a place for those, MANY places for those, none of which include where the myriad of pairs currently rests.
A pile of rumpled clothes sits to the side of my kitchen island, dirty socks are actually on my countertop. It was a late practice last night, a quick transition of the baseball bag this morning. Old stuff out, game uniform in, let the wreckage fall where it may.
Amazon packages sit on one end of my dining room table, a track uniform on the other. School papers and supplies dot the space in-between. Looking beyond the scattered dirty dishes there’s unopened mail, draped sweatshirts, and if I’m seeing this correctly, a rubber ducky?
I swear this place was clean yesterday.
At first glance I am overwhelmed. Family life with teenagers feels like punching at waves, forever walking the beach tossing starfish back into the ocean only to look up at countless other critters who are not where they belong.
At first I am overwhelmed.
But then I am beautifully overwhelmed.
The shoes that never seem to find their way back to a closet?
At second glance they are treasured monuments, arrows of canvas and suede pointing to the fact that my boys are home. With one leaving for college this summer, this will not always be the case. But for now, both they and their shoes are mine.
The dirty clothes in my kitchen, the track uniform on my table?
With a fresh look they are testaments to the gift of healthy bodies, to two young men able to participate and play. They are legs that can run, arms that can throw, hearts that can push and compete. A leg injury last year taught us that these things should not be taken for granted. The tragedies of life further remind us that there are rarely any guarantees.
The dishes, the packages, the mail, the school supplies, the rubber ducky? Really, a rubber ducky?
When I turn again they are not so much piles of mess as they are mountains of evidence of a life lived well. A life lived learning, growing, existing together. A life lived within the beauty of family, within the busyness of time, a life lived within a place where four humans can unite.
We talk here, we eat here, we pass quickly here, we linger here. We love and disagree and laugh and yes, we make a mess.
And we do it all together.
No, there is not calm in my house at this moment, but there is life.
I will miss this someday, I remember.
And now I’ll go start punching at some waves.