Jesus was born in a stable. So I presume He would be willing to visit my house, even on days like today. I ventured from my bed once today, long enough to capture the stable-like-similarities I saw. After a 10 day bout of taking care of sick kids, I knew my turn was coming. And it has. In a bad way. I am a little horrified of my children run house right now. In fact, this would theoretically be the perfect day for a Christmas miracle, aka: someone to come by and watch my kids, cook, put laundry away, make me soup and bring me lots and lots of fever reducing tylenol. Did I mention wash the dishes? But I would not let anyone through my door to do it. Even if there was such a willing soul. I do that to Jesus too. I only want Him to see the parts of me that aren’t a mess. But I need Him the most where I am falling apart. And it’s not as if He can’t already see the piles of dishes; they are mounting like the tower of Babel. Only, the amazing thing about this stable born King is His willingness to enter our world in manure filled stables, eat with tax collectors and bathe men's stinky feet. He is willing to cross my home and my heart’s threshold too, no matter how bad it looks like inside.
My December Photo Project is summed up today by this last one.
I see His love today in His acceptance of me, of my
mess, and in the enormity of His grace. And
also, just like Mary leaned on Joseph in her time of need, my husband has fed
children, gotten them all to bed, and tackled a load of dishes armed in my
purple dish gloves. How great is that?
Together in Grace,
Amy
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