You can’t enjoy the gift without making a mess of the wrapping paper

I’m living in a situation I never imagined I would find acceptable or even tolerable a few years ago.

My house is a mess.

As I write this, I count no fewer than 40-odd toys about the living room. A painting my son and wife started together is sloppily draped across some furniture to dry. A stack of cake supplies (my wife is a professional cake decorator) stands in the doorway to the kitchen. More toys are on the dining room table next to an empty Starbucks cup (my wife seems incapable of walking ten steps to the recycling bin).

Oh, but I feel such joy and love when I look at this mess.

I had a perfectly clean and tidy apartment when I was a neatnik twentysomething. Yes, my apartment was spotless right down to the bare walls and empty shelves.

You already get where I’m going with this, right?

The clutter that surrounds me now is a sign of life. The mess means I’m living in love.

I’ve thought about teaching my boy to pick up and put away his toys every day. But I love looking at the elaborate manifestations of his imagination. It’s better than any art I’ve ever seen at the DIA.

I could plead with my wife to please put her Starbucks cup in the recycling bin (how hard would it be?). But it’s such a joy and privilege to quietly serve her.

I’m still a clean-freak neatnik, but I’m learning that you can’t open and enjoy God’s gifts in life without wrapping paper flying everywhere.

Grace and peace.