A working kitchen is rarely tidy.
S.E. Reid
This is a hymn for the mountain of dirty dishes that manages to replenish itself every day in summer after eating, cooking, canning, and creating.
This is a psalm for the laundry, the cobwebs, the dust, the dog hair on the sofa. For each and every chore. For the lists of tasks, some done, some undone.
This is a song of honesty, of reality, of a house working overtime to shelter two hardworking humans and one very loyal animal. For the parts of life that aren’t very poetic, that don’t fit into a photo or a witty little post. For the parts of life we crop out. For the parts of life we hide when visitors come around.
God hides there. In the cracks, the crevices, the corners.
God peeks from under the laundry, from around the pile of dirty dishes, dangling from the cobwebs. He does not despise the dog hair. He is not bothered by dust.
Only Someone that almighty, that magnificent, can make Himself small enough to ride our exhaled breath, each deep sigh. Impossibly grand. Impossibly intimate. A God not unfamiliar with dirt and grime, with dust and splinters. A God who blessed our broken, fallen realities, and filled them with abundance.
To the untidy, to those in need of a good scrub: blessing on us all. Blessing on our dirty kitchens, our dusty shelves, our unmopped floors. Blessing on our untidy selves. Blessing on our untidy lives.
I believe that the untidy shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Each of us, one and all.
Amen.
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"Only Someone that almighty, that magnificent, can make Himself small enough to ride our exhaled breath" - love this - I know you are talking about the mundane, but it also makes me think of the micro/macro quantum universe that is, in my mind, the fabric of God's creation, through which Source becomes able to be felt and experience, as well as to feel and experience through Creation!
I love this.