But the photo is a pretty one from Better Homes and Gardens, isn’t it?
We have a linen closet in our children’s bathroom.
It has caused me stress since I was about to birth Solomon, almost two years ago.
My beloved Dr. T, who delivered two of my three little people and was supposed to deliver my third but well…that story is another post, told me that the baby was going to be arriving sometime “within a few days” that hot third week in July.
“He can’t, Dr. T,” I replied.
He looked at me a little quizzically. At this point, he had grown accustomed to my neurotic, irrationally-pregnant self since I pretty much had been “with child” for four consecutive years and had a myriad of appointments that allowed us to establish quite a history. He knew me well. All parts of me. (Clears throat.)
He was probably remembering why I told him I wasn’t ready for Susannah to arrive yet. I needed to organize the storage in our basement.
Or maybe he was remembering the mass chaos of Sawyer’s birth – having just moved to a brand spankin’ new community literally ten days prior, I really needed him to stay in utero until his due date so I could just find even one thing in our new home. He came three weeks early, thank you very much. If you know Sawyer, then you also know how very fitting this is.
With eyebrows raised and a somewhat amused slight grin, he waited for my stellar answer.
“I have to organize my linen closet, Dr. T, ” I answered.
“Can you bend down to do that?” he replied, unable to hide his amusement.
We had a good laugh at this. I went home, an hour and a half away, at three centimeters dilated.
Needless to say, I didn’t organize my linen closet.
And you know what? I still haven’t done it. Solomon, that baby who inhabited my womb longer than his two older siblings, arrived before I could get to that pressing task and I still just haven’t gotten around to it today.
Somehow, we have managed just fine despite the fact that sheets reside on any open shelf they can find and call a stack of mismatched towels their neighbors. Washcloths are located willy-nilly on every shelf, again a result of too little of a time period to stand and find just the perfect little spot for them to hang out until they are needed in the tub.
Clearly, an organized linen closet is not integral for our household to sustain itself. In fact, if I had taken the time to put towels and sheets in their “proper places” during that fateful summer, I wonder how many more times I would have had to re-do it because really, is there any way to keep it organized forever?
Isn’t life like that? We sweat the small stuff, like the linen closet, only to find that it just wasn’t even worth the heart muscle.
It’s not all small stuff. I know there are some big things that consume us and paralyze us with worry. Fear. Sadness.
That stuff is just too heavy for me to carry, friends. I have to give it up. But even the small stuff. Even that.
Father God, my linen closet is in your hands. What will be, will be. So is all of that little stuff that causes me to obsess and think my life is less than the perfect it really is. Teach me perspective. Teach me balance. Teach me what really, truly matters as I raise this little family to be lovers of you. You reign, Father. You reign.