I’ve been letting the kids play in the rain.
Not because we love the rain, but because it rains here.
Yesterday was no exception.
The kids,coming in and out of the rain, flung open and shut the back door so many times the doorknob literally fell off…
And no one even bothered to pick it up.
If you’ve been to my house in the last 6 months, you may know that the front door is also special.
Like crazy special.
In order to open it, you must lift up the handle, from the outside, push the handle down at the same time, and then put your shoulder into it while you shove your way into my glorious mess.
And that’s how you come into the house.
In order to go out, you must make sure that the glass knob is screwed on just enough to turn the knob but not screwed on so tightly that it won’t turn. As you turn the knob, you must gently pull open the door while simultaneously pushing the knob into its place.
Eight times out of 10, the glass knob will still fall off in your hand.
Special, I tell you.
But I don’t want new doors or doorknobs.
The old, broken ones sorta keep me humble.
I woke to sunny skies and to doorknobs that need to be tinkered with and yesterday’s fog of emotion is still lingering in the air.
I feel a bit undone.
I’ve washed the sheets and towels and taken out the weekend’s piles of trash and yet all the doing has not been the remedy for the nagging feeling of being undone.
And I think I’m OK with that.
Or at least I’m learning to be OK.
Or not OK, depending on how you see things.
My kids tumble down scuffed stairs and I see dust in the air as it bounces around the streaming sunlight.
I take out the kitty litter and clean Skeeter’s cage and I sweep the floor after myself.
I watch as the kids pour cereal and juice and they bicker over the number of marshmallows in each bowl.
My mind mentally works through files of things I still need to do, but don’t have the time or the want to.
A smile plays on my lips and one small one wraps her arms around my leg and I count moments.
And I know all of this, the crumbs hiding beneath the couch and the dust and the missing doorknobs, this is how Jesus keeps me living in the undone.
In the fray.
In the holy.
I jiggle the knob and turn the screwdriver and push the glass ball back into place.
And I hold onto the undone and humble and ask for eyes to see it all as holy.