I grasp around in my environment to see if there is any sort of shadow of eternity. There has to be redemption hidden somewhere, especially after I'm searching for wayward pacifiers and ridding the house of foul smells and irrational fears. There has to be GLORY in the mundane, right? Because, my friends, when you become a mama, it is a slow and glorious self-death, but it is also a wake-up call to the extreme privilege it is to witness creation by your Creator. To see a person unfold right before you and to suspect that He is going to change the world with the tiny hands you hold. I want to join in on His mission with my own creation, but I find that I fight against all that's been handed to me--the ever-growing needs and requests and "mommy!'s-- to do so. And so, sometimes all I can do is agree with the Holy groans in my walls of spirit and home that tell me it's worth it, the sweeping of sidewalks, the drying of clothes, the taking of pictures, the wiping of bottoms, the tickling on the couch--these things that generate no money or marking or interest--they are WORTH it, because they change the world.
I need to believe it, to hear it daily. Do you?