A constant prayer of my heart is that my eyes would be open to the things unseen. Over the weekend as I was grouching to myself about picking up after the girls (again), it struck me that the beautiful unseen can even be found in the everyday messes and things strewn about.
I think about how I want a crumbless, smudgeless, spotless house. How I want the (seeming) perfection all day that only happens at night when the whirlwind slows to a still…when my two girls sleep and their books and dolls all find their resting places too. But those forgotten playthings say so much more than “children live here”.
As a corrective vision exercise I decided to take photos of my girl’s trail of messes to see what else they might say. Because maybe it’s me that’s the mess. Because I want to make kid’s memories and laughter the priority. Because I know that when my mothering days fold up gently, I’ll miss those messes and their messages.
|Little hands, that won’t always be little, eager to play outside. |
|Sisters at play: nonsensical conversations between dolls and fantastical adventures. |
|She has landed.|
|Personal treasures guarded closely.|
|Cora climbing out of bed before dawn to come in ours for “a cuddle” all droopy eyed and hair a’ tousled. |
|Brenna dressing herself for school now. My loving her more and being needed less each each day.|
|Mealtime silliness across the table. |
|A lifelong bed fellow, friend and comforter. The smell of childhood on it.|
|“I want to do it by myself” though always forgetting to spit.|
|The feet that leave but (for now) always come home.|
|These messes and the hands that made them are all part of my fairytale.|