Proof of Life

As a recovering PIG (Princess In Garbage), I have often tried to rationalize the messiness of my surroundings. My excuses have ranged from a lack of technical knowledge, "I don't know how to run that contraption!" , to the psychological defense, "My Mommy never taught me HOW to clean." to sheer laziness, "I don't feel like it." to business "I'm working 90 hours a week and don't have time!" to finger pointing, "The house would be clean if it weren't for those darn kids!". No matter what the reason, the result was the same.

I don't have dust bunnies. I have dust camels. They lumber menacingly across the floor, gallumping with their huge, growing masses on their backs. Dust snakes leap from the ceiling fan blades when it is turned on after being stationary for a while. My laundry has actually sprouted legs and tried to climb into the washing machine, begging someone to pull the knob and start the water. Dishes have grown their own life forms and have needed to be disposed of. I'm not bragging- although the accomplishment of such filth takes time and lack of effort- I'm just stating some sad facts.

Like I said- I am recovering. There are a few misguided individuals who have actually complimented me on the cleanliness of my home now. I'm doing much better, but it's kind of like the former fat girl that still has that extra 10 lbs around her middle, even though she used to tip the scales. I'm not ever quite sure if I believe them when they say it, and I always wonder how bad it actually WAS.

As a human, we can rationalize anything and my rationalization for the filth is this...at least you know there was a life lived in my house. My mess is proof of life. As I trip over Rescue Heroes and curse the Legos, I know there was a 6 year old, dear to my heart, who occupied that floor. When I see the pile of bills on my desk, I know that I have had the finances to pay those bills and the blessing to live in a land of abundance. The dust on my shelves means I was too busy running my 11 year old to all of her activities and providing her with a wealth of experiences to take with her in life. The mountain of laundry is proof that I've been clothed. The dishes mean I've been fed.

I know I owe this all to God. I know I can look upon my mess and count my blessings. I know that 'All I have needed, His hand hath provided.' OUCH...did we really NEED that Matchbox car???