But I will not complain about it. Not this mess. Not this week.
I will not attempt to wax eloquent about a need for remedial organizational systems and cleaning schedules.
Not now. Not this week.
I sleep here every night beside my husband whom I love, comfortable and safe, sandwiched between his-and-hers tumbling stacks of books read, books in process, and books yet to be started.
A little pretty baby chose a spot in the middle of the floor, plopped down, and blissfully got lost in the discovery of coloring and creativity.
A brilliant beauty and a little big man took the time to stop, ignore the mess, and play a simple game.
Everybody was warm and clothed and clean everyday.
Paychecks were earned, payday arrived, and a little of it was even spent on frivolities from the thrift store.
Spring has sprung with signs of it reaching our kitchen table as plants await their placement. And alongside the green are the discarded plates from meals where each belly was filled to full with leftovers to spare.
I have no complaints. Not this week.
My house and my world: it's a mess. In every single direction just a mess. And I don't know exactly what of all of it was preventable or the results of too much busyness or distraction or negligence or focusing attention in "elsewhere" places. At nearly the end of this long week, it is what it is, and it's hard to know what to say.
I'll say this: I will not take these things for granted. Oh God, help me not take these things for granted.
And I will pray for the ones closest to the break and shatter. For comfort and for healing like a balm. For peace to go beyond what anyone can understand. For help and hope to ooze from within to the lives of the ones without.
A week so unlike most. I will thank God for that.