31 Days to See the Beauty in Your Mess

I’m spending each day here in the month of October writing about finding beauty in the everyday mess. Before you think I’m an expert on this topic, let me confess: I’ve likely already lost my temper, prayed that I could have a solo vacation, and held back frustrated tears this morning. I’m far from having this mastered. I’m writing here transparently so that you and I might grow in seeking His daily extravagant beauty. So pull up a chair and get ready to dive into the mess with me, knowing that somewhere in this mess is a beauty that only God can craft.

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***Trigger Warning: sexual abuse and assault are discussed discretely in this post.  If you anticipate being triggered by this content, please skip this post.

My first kiss was taken from me.

My second kiss was given away carelessly while I was trying to fill that void. Trying to let someone else tell me I was good enough. That kiss begged for someone to tell me I was not damaged.

It’s only the second time I’ve said those words out loud that night on the porch and only the fourth time I’ve relayed any part of this story at all.

The candle had been blown out an hour before and I’m feeling brave in the dark safety of her porch.

“I was sexually abused as a child.”  She replies slowly, deliberately, and tells the full story in the same way. The fragmented sentences almost poetic in the starlight.

We have more than 3 daughters between us and statistics state that at least one of them and likely two will walk a similar road. My son is not immune either with his 1 in 6 odds.

While writing this series on finding beauty in your mess, I’ve focused the majority on the everyday.  Those almost mundane moments that sap us and feel un-glamorous or messy or even just plain hard. I’ve wanted to keep the majority of this series focused on how God is present and weaving beauty even among our everyday sin and circumstances.

But what about these bigger messes? What about when darkness and sin steal the innocence of a child or the dignity of a woman or a man?

As a survivor of sexual assualt, I believe that God can bring beauty from the ashes of that mess.

Sitting there in the light of the stars telling our stories, talking about how to protect our daughters, and sharing ideas on how to serve our husbands in the bedroom: that is beauty and that is grace.

Being able to take another’s hand and say “I know what that feels like, but you are worthy. You are lovable. The Savior loved you enough to die for you in spite of your mess. He thought you were worth suffering the humiliation of the cross. He does not define you by either you sin or sins committed against you. And He think’s you’re beautiful.”

That, my friends, is how beauty rises from the biggest mess of ashes: in how we grow and how we’re able to minister to those who have felt that pain too.

***Writing a post like this is slightly more vulnerable than the rest of this series. Please give me grace.

***If you’re walking this road with me, please read this excellent post by my friend Mandy with some wonderful resources at the end.  Actually, the whole series is pretty great and my favorite is this encouragement from Mandy’s heart.

I’m spending each day here in the month of October writing about finding beauty in the everyday mess.  Before you think I’m an expert on this topic, let me confess: I’ve likely already lost my temper, prayed that I could have a solo vacation, and held back frustrated tears this morning.  I’m far from having this mastered.  I’m writing here transparently so that you and I might grow in seeking His daily extravagant beauty.  So pull up a chair and get ready to dive into the mess with me, knowing that somewhere in this mess is a beauty that only God can craft.

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My Bronwyn loves order.  This is what she does after waking from a nap in my room every single time, regardless of how many toys I leave out for her to play with.

Her favorite toy right now is a pile of pattern blocks and pattern mats (affiliate link, because when you have a child who loves order, it’s not easy to find the best resources to suit their idea of fun!).

But Bronwyn also thinks her definition of order is the only definition of order.

This is kind of how her verbal process goes

B: After lunch, I’m going to go outside and play.

Me: Okay, and then what?

B: Then you’re going to paint my fingers and get me ice cream. After that I’ll be going to ballet with Reagan and Daddy will pick me up.

Me: Well, it’s not Thursday so you don’t have ballet. Plus it’ll be nap time soon.

B: I say it’s Thursday and I don’t need a nap. (skips off to play… or throws a tantrum…)

She may or may not have inherited that desire for order from me.

Which means that on a string of days (or hours….or minutes) where things are not going my way, you may find me freaking out completely or (on a good day) taking deep calming breaths and praying hard prayers.

When chaos erupts, our initial response should be to bow our heads and surrender. We should look up at a good God and know that he will make what we think is a mess into perfect beautiful order. But He is the one who will give order a definition, not Bronwyn (or I).

When we walk into a mess (relationships, emotions, or just that dreaded laundry pile), we should slip off our shoes and bow low because we’re walking on holy ground.

Seeming chaos is God’s order for changing a human heart.  Chaos is holy ground because it’s a place where he is working.  Where he’s giving us opportunities to surrender and obey His Word.

When we feel out of control, it’s because He is in control. 

God is in control and He’s not concerned with how we define as order or chaos (or failure).  He has designed our day around what will be best for us, and not around our tidy little to-do lists.

I want the best for my Bronwyn, which doesn’t mean eating ice cream and going to ballet on everyday she calls Thursday.

God he loves us in the same way: He wants what is best for us. So we can trust Him with the chaos and know that it’s really a beautiful thing.

I’m spending each day here in the month of October writing about finding beauty in the everyday mess.  Before you think I’m an expert on this topic, let me confess: I’ve likely already lost my temper, prayed that I could have a solo vacation, and held back frustrated tears this morning.  I’m far from having this mastered.  I’m writing here transparently so that you and I might grow in seeking His daily extravagant beauty.  So pull up a chair and get ready to dive into the mess with me, knowing that somewhere in this mess is a beauty that only God can craft.

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I don’t do humble well.  The root of all my sins of choices are pride.

I grow sad and dejected over my failures.  “Really,” I chide myself, “Can’t you just get it together already?”

I fail all the time.

All. The. Time.

I fail by yelling and saying words I often regret.  I feel like I fail when I can’t book a single client even though the inquiry numbers are high.  I fail when I’m too scared to do the next thing even when I know it’s the right time. I fail when I don’t get up from seeming failure.  I fail when I don’t apologize.  I fail all the time.

But here’s the thing, when we feel like a failure it’s because we’re more concerned with our own glory than the glory of God. Part of me hated when I wrote that down, because it’s just enough to drive me to humble repentance.

Seriously, who are we to label something a failure?  Isn’t that God’s job?  Sure sin is something we know we can label as failure, but the true failure is only in failing to repent.

Everything else?  Well, we don’t know what God is up to so we don’t have to right to label it a failure.

So here’s permission to label your failure as “work-in-progress” and just keep seeking more of His glory.

I’m spending each day here in the month of October writing about finding beauty in the everyday mess.  Before you think I’m an expert on this topic, let me confess: I’ve likely already lost my temper, prayed that I could have a solo vacation, and held back frustrated tears this morning.  I’m far from having this mastered.  I’m writing here transparently so that you and I might grow in seeking His daily extravagant beauty.  So pull up a chair and get ready to dive into the mess with me, knowing that somewhere in this mess is a beauty that only God can craft.

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I open my dishwasher after breakfast.

I’m still worn right out from the illness that ravaged us for the last 10 days.  I really just want to head back to bed and take a mom sick day (is there such a thing?).  But the dishes from breakfast and half the dinner dishes from last night that didn’t fit in the dishwasher are spread out over the counter.  So I open the dishwasher to unload it.

And it looks like this.

My sweet husband had emptied it before he left for work.

For me, this is the ultimate gesture of marital love.  The morning clean up is often hard with three kiddos running around, dishes everywhere, and the days agenda to complete.  Maybe I’m just odd, but slowing down the momentum of breakfast clean up to unload the dishwasher makes me feel like I’m starting the day in a position of instant defeat.  Derek knows this and more mornings than not I open the dishwasher to see this glorious sight.

Suddenly, I’m joyfully chucking dishes right down into my empty dishwasher.  My morning tiredness is evaporating and my mood has improved just because of one little thing.

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It’s the little things that change our perspective.

I’m in the middle of a weary morning and then I notice the empty dishwasher.

We’re arriving at a destination just trying to wear the kids down for bed in the middle of sickness induced exhaustion and another week with Derek gone in the evenings and then Bronwyn asks about how God made her and what is shame.

I’m picking up the hundreds of toys (how did we get so many toys?!) strewn all over and then Sedryn comes over and randomly plants a kiss right on me.

I’m tackling the laundry monster while Derek wrestles with the kids and then Aeralind comes over and begs to fold all the rags and hand towels.

The whole morning is falling to pieces and then a friend texts that she’s at the park.

I’m feeling the full weight of shame and sin and then I look up to the most glorious sunset I’ve ever seen.

The little things can be what changes a mess into beauty. When we open our hands to receive what the Lord is giving us, we notice astounding grace.  We begin to see that the true beauty is not the overwhelming quality of the mess, but of the tiny things that add a bit of sparkle to the otherwise mundane.

What are the little things that changed your perspective on the mess today?

I’m spending each day here in the month of October writing about finding beauty in the everyday mess. Before you think I’m an expert on this topic, let me confess: I’ve likely already lost my temper, prayed that I could have a solo vacation, and held back frustrated tears this morning. I’m far from having this mastered. I’m writing here transparently so that you and I might grow in seeking His daily extravagant beauty. So pull up a chair and get ready to dive into the mess with me, knowing that somewhere in this mess is a beauty that only God can craft.

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The thunder rolls in the distance. Derek is settling our babies in the guest cabin. 10 hours of driving has me weary of people in my space.

I sit on her couch to write nestled between walls over 100 years old and pastures and cornfields. Being in close quarters in the car provides all the opportunity we need for the ever present sin of ingratitude to become apparent again.

There is whining and begging and tantrums and tears (and only some of that from the kids). And I snarl at Derek like an angry dog trying to get two kids off a too tall teeter totter at rest stop right over the Illnois border.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what you need.” Derek quips in return and it reverberates hard.

I’m weak. I need help. There’s no shame in that. But I don’t like to ask.

But what if asking is part of Ephesians 4:29?

Let no unwholesome word proceed from your mouth, but only such a word as is good for edification according to the need of the moment, so that it will give grace to those who hear. Ephesians 4:29

I have it stenciled there on my coffee table.  Those words about my words.

But what if part of building up those around me with words is asking for help? What if my asking for help has the power to spur someone on to growth.

And as I think these thoughts on a couch in Illinois, I realize that asking for help bulids others up in quite a few different ways.

• When I ask for help, I am telling my friend the Lord made him/her with gifts that can bless another.  My friend has a purpose and a way to serve.  When I ask for help, I reflect to them a small part of that purpose.
  
• When I ask for help, I am revealing my messy weakness in a way that shatters the lies of Satan. Satan is always trying to convince us that we’re not as good good as our friend. He is trying to trap us into comparison and cripple us from completing the specific ministry the Lord created us for. Admitting I need help shatters my friend’s ability to say to herself “Well, she’s got it all together. Why can’t I?”
• When I ask for help, I am affirming that my friend is valuable to me.  I am saying that they have worth to me. Affirming that I can trust them with my mess and let them walk through that mess with me.

These things are gifts of affirmation to your friend.  Asking for help can help them grow.

So how about you and I commit to asking for help more regularly.  Revealing our mess when we ask for help causes us to humble ourselves and encourages our brothers. Isn’t that real beauty?