Right this minute, I have 4 faces peering into my space. Their dark faces are smooshed right up onto the glass that I cleaned 2 weeks ago and it will be at least 24 more weeks before I clean that glass again.
I’m lazy like that.
There are 2 kids sprawled out on my porch swing, 2 on the steps, 1 perched on the brick pillar, 2 in the hammock in the backyard and 2 more that keep coming in and out. One is flying through the air thanks to the horse swing and the boy who is pushing with all he’s got.
Inside, I’ve got one toddler asleep and one baby bouncing in her seat and maybe 15 minutes before someone starts crying of tattling or asking for food or water or a popsicle.
I’m feeling all sorts of worn and frayed.
I’ve got a hundred things spinning in my head and a hundred more turning over in my heart and 4 more stories in my inbox waiting to be read and edited and bedazzled with pictures of our great city and my cup runs over.
It is running over, y’all.
I look out my window, through the smudges and fingerprints, and a part of me cringes at the many feet trampling all over my yard. The circle around the horse swing is getting wider and wider and my natural area is looking way more natural than I like. I watch the kids chase each other and for a moment I know that the kids with dark skin and corn rows will soon outnumber my fair skinned ones.
To be honest, I bite my lip at the thought of being the minority in my own yard. It’s all new to me and nothing new to Jesus and I obey because you’re watching me and I’ve invited you to do so.
Most days, it’s knowing that you’re watching that keeps me going. Sad, but true. I guess Jesus knew what He was doing when He made the church a functioning body. It’s in this obedience, the doing it when I really don’t want to because I feel held accountable to you and to Jesus, that is gradually working out the yuck that’s hidden deep down in my heart.
And it’s making me want to love this place, even when I feel like the minority in my own yard.
My inbox blinks with another story and I can hear my phone ding with each click on Facebook and I sit in awe of what God is doing through your stories, your memories, your hopes, and your dreams. Your stories are just bits of a grander work being written and each time one of you sits down to recount the story of God here, all of our hearts are changed and turned a little more towards home.
And I think heaven cheers and cheers and cheers.