On Being Real

So this is my house on an average day . . . 

And this is what I want to know. How much would you judge me for the cluttered tables and clean clothes hanging around? And why is it so hard for me to admit that this is normal in my home? When did it become imperative for my home to look like a showroom?

We live in this house. And living is messy. And, yes, I'd much rather crochet and read and talk with my family than run around picking up every little thing and putting it away. And why does that seem like a bad thing? That I've failed as a wife and mother (and possibly a person) because I choose this? 

I love neat and orderly, and I have periods where that happens, but not unless I'm constantly focused on it, and that grows old after a while. Perhaps I'm just a petulant child who wants to do what she wants to do. What I really believe is that creating and talking and loving and learning are a lot more important that appearing. Maybe my real problem still comes back to needing everyone else's approval -- which I'm not going to get.

So this is what my house really looks like. If you don't care, welcome. I'll fix you a cup of tea and you can move the dog to sit down on the squished out sofa. If you do care, then maybe you shouldn't visit me after all.

With Thanks to Lisa-Jo Baker

Repeat after me:

1. I shall not wait for my house or my life to be perfect before inviting someone in.
2. I shall remember that big hospitality has nothing to do with the size of my house.
3. I shall not judge my house, my Holidays or my gift wrapping skills by Pinterest’s standards.
4. I shall tell myself that no one ever did actually die of embarrassment from a small or messy space. And that missing out on community is a much worse kind of dying.
5. I shall not compare myself to others’ traditions, decor or gifts, but find my identity in the God who came to *be* the gift to me.
6. I shall play music loudly and teach my kids the joy of wildly off key carols.
7. I shall accept that a messy house at peace is better than an immaculate house tied up in knots.
8. I shall remember that guests will only feel as comfortable in my home as I feel in my own skin.
9. I shall embrace the fact that in becoming a mom I traded perfect for a house full of real.
10. I shall remember that there’s no shame in paper plates if they’re heaped high with delight in each others’ company.
11. I shall give my friends the gift of comparison-free friendship.
12. I shall pause between preparations to savor the celebrations.
13. I shall remember that hospitality is about opening the door, not about how fancy the furniture, decor or dishes.
14. I shall treat my family with the same grace I offer my guests.
15. I shall treat myself with the same grace I offer everyone else.
16. I shall leave the dishes and lean into the conversations.
17. I shall not focus on fear of appearances but on fully opening my arms to my friends and family.
18. I shall not be intimidated by how the holidays, the turkey, the tree or the memories “should” be celebrated but love the people I’m celebrating with instead.
19. I shall welcome my kids into the decorations, preparations, and celebrations.
20. I shall remember that I want you here. Whether I’m perfectly ready or not. Just the way you are. Which will likely mean most days, I must open the door just the way I am too.

~ with love from one tired, happy mother to another.

From Lisa-Jo Baker with much gratitude!