Yesterday I wrote a post about my kitchen. I made sure that everything was nicely put away and I cleaned my countertops to perfection and I took pictures. I'm not a great photographer, but I was proud of my photos of my lovely kitchen.
I took those photos at 1:00 yesterday afternoon. 18 hours later, my kitchen looked as if a storm had passed through. What happened? I had it looking wonderful--picture-perfect!--just a few hours ago!
So I muttered under my breath and started to, none too graciously, restore order to this space, when my eye fell upon this:
A little plate I inherited from my grandmother.
My grandmother was a wise woman. I am thankful for this reminder.
My kitchen is a lovely gift from God, and I am grateful. "Every good gift. . . is from above" (James 1:17). I know this is true, and I want to use this gift to its fullest potential. But even greater than the gift of my home is the gift of my family. Mess-making, chaos-creating people though they may be, they are a far greater treasure than my nice kitchen.
And so I will wash the dishes and throw away the trash and wipe up the crumbs. And I will fall on my knees in gratitude that I have a precious family to make my kitchen dirty enough to be happy.