I would notice that so-and-so had a matching sofa set with a beautiful coordinating rug. And so-and-so has such pretty hardwood floors that look freshly polished. And so-and-so really has a sense for decorating; everything looks just like a magazine spread.
And that feeling of inadequacy comes creeping up. Where did that come from? I know, Lord, you have given us so very much. We are so blessed. I know that.
It's the same feeling I had last time I came home from my sister's house. It's beautiful. Everything in her house matches. Not a picture frame or candle holder that doesn't coordinate finds its way onto the shelves. She is so talented at organizing and decorating.
Our house? Well, it's a mismatch of hand-me-down furniture, new furniture, well-used furniture. Pretty much anything anyone gives us finds its way onto the shelves, tables, and countertops. (I definitely inherited the packrat gene from my mother and grandmother; it skipped my sister.) I can't say that our house has a style per say.
I think about my friend whose house is spotless at all times. Even with two kids. Her carpets don't have stains. Dishes don't sit in her sink. The beds are always made. Even when I stop by at a moments notice--nary a speck of dust to be found.
And I feel inadequate as a housekeeper and "stylist" for this home.
Driving around with all this floating through my head, my thoughts traveled back a few years to when I had a group of girls from Students for Christ at my house overnight. I used to teach in a large urban high school where most of the kids were on free and reduced lunch. Broken families were the norm. 15-year-olds getting pregnant was not uncommon. Gangs and drugs were rampant.
The girls wanted a "Ladies Night" retreat sort-of-thing, and instead of paying to stay in a hotel, I offered to let them come to my house.
I didn't think anything of it.
Our house is not huge. It's a normal, modest, one-story house in the suburbs. It's just the right size for us, except the yard is a little small for the dogs. It has three bedrooms, a couple of living areas, and an average size kitchen.
I dream of something bigger. A large island kitchen. Hardwood floors that stretch through the house. Clean carpets. Matching furniture that's comfortable and practical. A bigger yard. The list goes on.
Do you know what I overhead that night the girls stayed at my house?
"This is my dream house!"
I was stopped dead in my tracks. Her dream house? Don't people normally say that about big, fancy mansions with marble and tile and a pool?
Not when you've lived in an apartment all your life with your whole family (extended family, probably) and never had your own space. Not when you share your small bedroom with more than one other person.
I was humbled then and again today when I remembered those words.
Lord, help me to be satisfied with what you have given me. It is more than enough. You are more than enough for me. Thank you for humbling me once again.
I will praise you as long as I live,
and in your name I will lift up my hands.
My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods;
with singing lips my mouth will praise you.
On my bed I remember you;
I think of you through the watches of the night.
Because you are my help,
I sing in the shadow of your wings.
My soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me.
