I don’t know about you, but some days I dream of rooms where everything has a place and everything is in its place. I imagine being able to see vacuum lines, and the house always feels fresh and clean.

I long for that feeling when you open your front door and everything looks bright and airy like it’s straight from a magazine.

My reality is anything but.

Toys litter the floor. There is a sticky mess in front of the refrigerator where someone tried to pour their own drink. Laundry overflows from the hamper even with doing one load each day. The noise level is deafening. Once I clean one room, there are at least two rooms that look like a tornado ran through them.

I long for the days of vacuum lines.

But do I?

I remember back ten years ago when I did have that spotless house. My friends with kids would talk about how clean my house was, how they would give anything to not have to clean up mess after mess.

With my husband at work, it was just me. The silence was deafening. I would turn on the radio or call a friend just to hear something other than silence. Sometimes I would even invite myself over to a friend’s house so I wouldn’t have to be alone.

I would sit on the couch with a warm cup of tea and dream of the day that our home would be full of little feet running through it. Of course, I wasn’t sure that dream would ever become a reality.

Now that it is a reality, it’s ironic how I long for a clean house again. The grass always seems greener on the other side. But it really isn’t.

From experience, I know that those vacuum lines are lonely. Even on the days I am overwhelmed with the mess, I make myself look for the beauty. Because it’s there. God makes all things beautiful.

Motherhood is refining. It’s hard. But it’s also rewarding.

I wouldn’t trade this beautiful mess for anything in the world.

Soon enough, these little feet will grow and walk out our front door for the last time into the world as they find their way and follow hard after God. I pray that I won’t hinder that with my selfish desires to keep them “safe” under my roof. Because they aren’t mine.

They are His.

Those vacuum lines will return once again. The floors will stay clean and the laundry basket won’t overflow.

The house will be empty once more.

So today, I am enjoying the mess and looking for beauty.

It’s all about perspective.