We have had a busy couple of days, so I’m really just popping in tonight to say, “Here’s something you can read… but, alas… I did not write it.” Which, you know… YAY FOR YOU, because of that part I DID NOT WRITE IT. You’ll get something with a little meatier quality this evening than what I normally crank out of the writing bubble machine.
The big issue is that I am now at a point in my life where ALL THE STUFF is overwhelming me. I think it’s a mid-life crisis. Instead of wanting to rush out and buy myself a little red Corvette or take six girlfriends with me to Las Vegas, my mid-life crisis is taking the shape of, “DO YOU SEE ALL THIS STUFF WE OWN? I want it OUT OUT OUT of my house.” I have found myself staring at pictures on Pinterest that are all about minimalist decorating.
You know… I basically have come to a point where I only want the sofa and the coffee table in the living room… and NOTHING MORE. And I kind of just want four bowls, four cups, four plates, and four forks in the kitchen, because WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I ACTUALLY MADE HOMEMADE BREAD IN THE BREAD MACHINE? And also, WE’VE USED THE HOMEMADE ICE CREAM MAKER TWICE IN THE LAST FOUR YEARS, AND YET WE KEEP STORING IT HERE IN MY KITCHEN!
But for the most part, it’s the pantry that causes me the biggest grief. My pantry is always in chaos, no matter how often I tidy it up, because I have two boys who plow through it with gusto and hunger pains, multiple times a day. My boys are eating machines, people. Eating. Machines. And those machines stay well-oiled and in prime-operating condition by digging through boxes of granola bars and fruit cups and loaves of bread, and then tossing them all willy-nilly on the pantry shelves, every seventeen minutes.
On Sunday, I told Hubs, “I feel like I have a learning disability, because I cannot look at the pantry and SEE IN MY HEAD how it needs to be organized, and it’s pushing me to the brink of insanity, because I WANT it organized.” And then I told Hubs, “I need your ability to think in the abstract, because I cannot accomplish an organized pantry on my own. I have no idea WHERE to put everything for maximum efficiency.”
(I said “maximum efficiency,” like I’m 104 years old.)
And then I sort of heaved an enormous sigh and got all teary eyed, because I had bared my soul.
I had bared my soul, because I was embarrassed to admit that my pantry — THE PANTRY, FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE! — was causing me so much stress. WHO stresses out over her pantry?
I’ll tell you who:
Someone who thinks that organizing small parts of her life is going to bring her joy. Someone who thinks if she has pantries like these…
And, let’s face it. The scissors in that first picture are too easily accessible, which means Thing 2 would snag them and give the cat a haircut. Plus, the little paper tags on the wicker baskets are dangling too freely. My boys would have them ripped off in moments, with all the jerking in and out they’d do with those baskets, to get to the licorice whips and Goldfish crackers.
After all of that… of confessing to Hubs that IF MY PANTRY JUST LOOKED LIKE A PINTEREST PANTRY, MY LIFE WOULD FALL RIGHT INTO PLACE… I read a random blog post. It’s not from a blog that I normally read at all. I found it, quite by accident, and then I had to sit up a little straighter in my seat, because IT. WAS. WHAT. I. NEEDED.
It was exactly what I needed.
Because trying to find my joy in a clean pantry simply means that I’m probably not trying to find my joy in Jesus. And because I was comparing my pantry to the pantries of other women — strangers! — on Pinterest, who seemed to have greater worth than I did, because LOOK AT ALL THOSE GLASS JARS FILLED WITH PASTA AND CEREALS, while we have a Lucky Charms family-sized box right now that is basically ripped all the way in half, because Thing 2 tried to get into it a little too quickly.
So, if you need some encouragement about not believing your worth diminishes with everything you seem to be failing at… Read THIS. It’s lovely.