Nothing’s level, nothing’s finished, and we keep finding more junk. Just when you think it’s whipped and taken care of, there’s something else. All that needs done is larger than my mind can embrace, so I think of it in terms of bite-sized chunks, knowing that I may well be retired with great-grandchildren before the larger goals are accomplished.
All of this, stated in a spirit of humor and please, know it’s not with any sort of complaining (at least I have a roof!), made me think this morning of how God must look at me and waver between laughter and hysteria. One minute, all this progress – new kitchen floor and the brand-new windows are washed up – and then, WHAM! Off I go, on my path of sin and wandering. Next minute, we’re doing better, really on the right path – plans on the floor for the bathtub to go in, scaffolding set up outside for attic work – and BOOM! No fear, but she’s just started something crazy again and has rammed into something, causing complete and utter havoc.
All these plans, all these hopes, all very well. If only the floors were level and the furnace installed. If only the attic wasn’t full of birds and the upstairs was insulated. If only I could let go and let God and leave the rest to him!
“…we’d tear the bleeping thing down if we could afford it.”
ha ha ha
That’s exactly how my parents felt about their 100+ year old Victorian in Northern Ohio and exactly what my uncle did to his old farmhouse in central Ohio (I’ll miss my grandma’s home, but can’t wait to see his new house built on the same site).