I love our house and the memories we’ve built here as a family. But the plain and simple fact is that we’re busting at the seams. I remember being shocked at the amount of “stuff” we had accumulated when we moved from our tiny apartment into this place nearly four years ago. And then, with the arrival of Calder, we acquired even more.
Now, as we prepare for our second little one, I glance around our home, and shudder at the sight of massive piles-o-junk scattered precariously on shelves, tables, small plots of unused floor space, and so forth. Over the past few weeks, we have made great progress in completing some of our small projects around the house. The deck looks great, we’ve all moved to new rooms so the nursery is now ready, and we’ve rearranged other furniture to maximize space. Yet as I’ve learned, with progress there also is a certain amount of regression as well. As I’m dealing with the heat, humidity, swollen hands and feet, seemingly insurmountable goals, and general crankiness, today’s latest setback threw me for a loop.
Just this morning, I thought for certain we were significantly closer to re-establishing order within the household, as my fabulous husband hung beautiful shelves and hangbars in our new master bedroom closet. That was the final piece of the ever-evolving puzzle. The completion of that project would enable me to move our clothes downstairs, Calder’s clothes (and lots of other stuff) to our old room, and pull out lots of little clothes and gear from the attic to finish setting up the nursery.
It was around my 7th trip up and down the stairs that I inwardly marveled at the sheer quantity of hanging clothes we’ve accumluated (and yes we should probably organize purge some of these as well). And then, as I gingerly hung yet another load of shirts onto the bottom (the longer) bar, the dreaded words came out of my mouth. “Man, there’s a lot of stuff on this bar. You’re sure it’s going to hold, right?”
Seriously, does anyone else feel like sometimes they’re just a little bit psychic? I had all the clothes hung and was beginning to get things organized, when the lower shelf started to fall. A few panicked screams later and Garth comes running in to assist. The funny part of the whole situation (now that I’m over the aggravation and shock) is him trying to squeeze behind me when I couldn’t move for fear the shelf would fall and do even more damage to the wall. Nor could I “suck it in” to give him more room due to my big ol’ baby belly.
With the closet situation under control, I decided to work on things in the kids’ rooms for a while to distance myself from the disaster in ours. Even though I’d put the whole thing in God’s hands, I was still doing some heavy-duty wallowing in my thoughts. Why can’t things ever work out? We were so close to having things really wrapped up? A few more trips up and down the stairs allowed me time to pray about the situation, and to ask God for wisdom and patience and for the strength not to let such an inconsequential event derail my entire day and rob me of my positive attitude.
Then, just as suddenly as the shelf came crashing down, I thought of Mary and how she felt exactly the same way – that things were so not happening according to plan. I imagined her fear, uncertainty, concern, embarrassment, shame and hope that things would all turn out right. Young, unmarried, and pregnant, she had to believe that there was a greater plan that she couldn’t yet see. And then, to give birth in a stable? The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was silly to be worked up about this minor setback. And while things may not be working according to my plans, they might be working according to His.