So here we are…
With The List that goes on and on and on and on…
Those words on that sheet of paper that remind me of all the domestic responsibilities that have taken a backseat to…well, everything else. The List of expectations, urgent needs, priorities, not-so-much-priorities, demands.
The things I don’t call fun.
Furniture to dust. Floors to wash. Toilets to scrub. Rugs to shake. Cobwebs to eliminate. Groceries to buy. Carpets to clean. Laundry to move from the washer to the dryer before it gets moldy. Or moldier.
Sometimes I put pretty blue bullets next to each group of words on The List to make it a bit more energizing. (Yeah, like that really works.) Sometimes I scrawl The List on the back of a bank statement envelope (which just adds another whole layer of anxiety) with a broken pencil I found underneath the car seat along with 13 pennies and two Life Saver candies. (Add to The List…Clean the car.)
The List can suck the air right out of my lungs.
Better than that vacuum that can lift a bowling ball.
Lord, in all this, please show me…
…How to live fully when life is reduced to The List.
I put so much pressure on myself to Be…Do…Get It Done.
And this homemaking stuff just doesn’t come easy for me.
Please help me find that place of domestic contentment where I’m…
Refreshed and not ragged.
Focused and not frazzled.
Settled and not sinking.
Lord, I know you meet me right where I am.
Today, please meet me at The List.