Tuesday, March 12, 2013

{day twenty three} at the foot of the cross I lay down my mess...

When I read this today, it caused a fountain to well up inside my heart.  I warn you not to click on over unless you want to feel that someone else gets it.  Gets you.  Mess and all.

I've spent a lot time in the space, in my tiny little corner of the web, talking about transparency.  And the need to share life with others.  I'd be lost without the women that I do life out loud with.  Women that pray over me and spur me along in my walk with Jesus. 

Women that can look past the stains on my carpet and the crumbs on my kitchen floor.  Women that don't pass judgement when I post pictures of the mountain of laundry that keeps growing in my house {sometimes clean; most times dirty}.  Women who understand through nodding heads and genuine smiles the struggles of working full-time and mommying full-time.  Women who stand alongside me when the going gets tough.  And the same women who throw their heads back and let out a hearty laugh when life serves you up some sweet lemonade from the sour bunch of lemons you were handed just days before. 

Yes, women who love me in spite of my messy home and even messier heart. 

Because I whole-heartedly believe that the only true, good way to do life is to share it with others, I lay down my mess of a heart at the foot of the Cross.  I no longer worry about sharing the messy, darky, dusty corners of my life.  I no longer feel the need to hide behind the 'fines' and 'greats' and 'just peachy, thanks for askings'. 

Life is messy.  There is no reason to pretend otherwise. 

So, I promise you right here and right now, if ever you find yourself ringing my doorbell, you will find stained carpet and couch cushions.  You will find dust on the blinds and ceiling fans and baseboards.  You will most likely find toothpaste globs in the hallway bathroom and a mountain of laundry lurking in one of the bedrooms.  I promise not to polish up for you.  But I do promise to brush the cracker crumbs from the couch and offer you a hot cup of coffee.  And I promise to be a safe place to share your mess.  After all, you were brave enough to enter mine when you showed up on the front porch.

How can you be brave enough to share your mess with others?  In what ways could you stop hiding behind 'fine' and start doing life with others?  I mean, really doing life, not just pretending?

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