Time To Clean Up

I hate a mess.  It drives me crazy.  I wish it did not bother me, but it does.  I cannot work with distraction.  I can’t think in chaos, and I certainly get past a messy playroom.  As much as I dislike a mess, my kids can’t stand to clean up.  There was a time, back when they were sweet and innocent, when clean up time was fun.  It involved a fun little song and two happy babies merrily hurling toys into bins and laughing all the while.  Now, it involves two very independent toddlers who’ve perfected the word, “No.”  They don’t care to clean up.  A mess doesn’t bother them one bit.  Both are both oblivious to the utter destruction they can wreak on a room in ten seconds flat.  To them, right now, it’s just a way of life.

In our house, we do massive clean up twice a day: before naps and before bedtime.  This morning, we played outside, had a picnic lunch, and then marched right upstairs to the bathtub for a quick rinse before naptime.  Lilly and Jake are both obsessed with bubbles, yet tend to wear more of the soapy solution these days.  Today, there was no way around a mid-day dip in the tub.

When I came downstairs to enjoy “naptime,” which never seems to involve a nap for me, I was horrified at the sight of the playroom.  I had forgotten to get them to clean up before I whisked them upstairs, red-faced and sweaty, dripping wet with soap. 

I should know better than to do what I did.  Against all rational thoughts, I began to pick up their toys- the toys they had pulled out this morning and strewn all over the house.  Halfway through, I heard a voice in my head say, “If you do it for them, they’ll never learn.”  Another voice replied, “But I can do it so much quicker.”  And then, “Yeah, but it’s their mess.  They need to clean it up.”  Back and forth we went.  

“But they hate to clean up.  It’s such a struggle these days.”

“They hate it, but you need to teach them to do it anyway.”

“I can’t stand looking at the mess, so I’m doing it myself.”

(Please don’t send me to the looney bin for admitting I hear voices.  There is always a voice of reason somewhere inside this head of mine.  It’s just that I choose not to listen to her nearly as much as I should.) 

Today I should have left the mess and let my kids clean up later. But I could not resist the urge to do it for them.  It bugs me to have the front room of my house a complete and utter disaster.  I don’t mind it when they are awake and running about; in fact, I expect it.  But during the two silent and peaceful times this house experiences in a day (during naptime and bedtime), I want my house looking peaceful as well.  Messes stress me out!  Plus, I know where everything goes.  Not only can I clean it up quicker than the two of them, I can do it better.

As I continued my clean-up process, God put this teeny, tiny thought in my head, and it quickly went straight to my heart.  “I could clean up your messes, too.”

I may be an organized and tidy person, but I am a mess on the inside.  In fact, I’ve often wondered if my perfectionism on the outside is an attempt to cover up the fact that I know I am not that way on the inside.  Perfectionism is honestly my biggest flaw.  It is something that God continually prompts me to give to Him.  As I got still and listened, here’s what I heard:

"I could clean up your messes, too, but I won’t.  I want to teach you how to clean up your own messes.  You can learn from Me, because I know how to do it better than you could ever imagine.  I know where everything goes.  You can try to do it without Me, but it will take a long, long time, and it still won't be right. I promise to teach you;  but I won’t do it for you.  You have to learn how to clean up for yourself, with My help.  I want to heal you and wash all the yuck away.  I want to get rid of what stands in the way of Me.  I will wait, even though it drives Me crazy to see you trying to live in the midst of the mess you’ve created.  I will wait until you are ready to take my hand and let Me help clean up your mess.”

God always has a way of using my kids and my own parenting skills (or lack thereof) to deliver these kind of jaw-dropping reminders that completely catch me off-guard.  He waits so patiently.  Sometimes, when it feels like I am the one waiting on Him, He’s the one who’s patiently waiting on me.  I am notorious for taking something God has placed on my heart, and running like wild with it.  But often, when I look up, I am by myself.  I am where He never intended for me to be…. Alone. 

Jesus wants to walk with us.  He made us to have a relationship with Him.  He knows every emotion, every struggle, every single way a heart can break, because He lived here on this Earth and felt all the things we feel.  Yet He was perfect.  He didn’t try to be perfect, and fall short every time, like me.  He was perfect.  He is Perfect.  And sometimes, what He calls us to do begins in dealing with our very own mess.  The mess within us.  And He is the only One who can heal our heartaches, fix our broken dreams, give us life and purpose, and free us from ourselves.  He is the Only One who truly knows how to clean up our mess, perfectly.

I run for dear life to God, I'll never live to regret it.
   Do what you do so well:
      get me out of this mess and up on my feet.
   Put your ear to the ground and listen,
      give me space for salvation.
   Be a guest room where I can retreat;
      you said your door was always open!
   You're my salvation—my vast, granite fortress.
Psalm 71:1-3 (The Message)