It is evening time at home. I can hear

my husband exerting every last energy he has into coaxing our six kids to go to bed while I am tidying up those same six kids messes from the day. Divide and conquer is the name of the game and today I am thankful to be conquering the sweeping instead of the bedtime

It’s the last sweep of the night and I begin to sigh as my broom moves past the baseboard moldings. Those moldings were just painted a little over a year and a half ago by yours truly, and now have scuffs, bits of paint coming off, and dirt aging it to more like 20 years old. I’m all about the “character” in a house, but this isn’t quite what I had in mind. My eyes trail up the wall that was painted at the same time and see a similar sight of dirt and marks,  dirty hand prints where little hands have touched it as they stable themselves to put on their boots, and some dried food spots where I couldn’t get to a kid fast enough to wipe their face and hands and the wall stepped in for me. I see a million scratches on the floor from all the toys and chairs that have been dragged across it. Why did they not think about the 80 year old hardwoods underneath? Is it too much to ask for a house that looks like the cover of a magazine? Probably, considering we have a large family, I cook every single meal, we homeschool, and live on a farm. Oh, did I mention four of those sweet children are boys? (Can I get an Amen from all the moms of boys?)

I start to enter the realm of discouragement as I see my magazine cover dream slip away.  Then all of the sudden my sister in laws words invade my discouraging thoughts, “our house is lived in.” That’s it. Simple, but true. Yes, I could have my magazine worthy house, but there must be a trade, a sacrifice made. Could I still have six kids? Could I homeschool? Could I cook good nutritious food for them at every meal? Would we live on a farm? Would my kids be living a creative (and dirty), full life? What kind of mother would I be if I was constantly focusing on the house, don’t touch this, don’t sit there, instead of focusing on connection with my husband and children. I am not advocating “no boundaries” for our kids, but life happens, accidents happen, and kids are kids, complete with messes.

If I had to trade all the joy of my life now, then forget it. It isn’t worth it. And just as quickly as the discouragement came, it left. No thanks, no trades. My scuffed up and roughed up house will have to remain. I can’t promise I still won’t make excuses to guests about the house when they come over (because I basically do that every time), but I want to LIVE.  And when I think about what I have chosen over my magazine dream, the imperfections start to become a little less bothersome and a little more beautiful. As the old saying goes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And tonight I am beholding beauty.

~Amanda