My house is a wreck. It's undeniable. Anyone who walked in without giving me some advance notice would be acutely aware that little children live here. This fact has been the cause for many, many struggles within myself as to why it seems totally impossible for me to keep my house clean. Every day I put it back together and every day it gets demolished one more time. It's discouraging. Laundry is the bane of my existance and (heaven forbid) should I forget to move the load from the washer to the dryer, I'm just that much more behind because now I have to wash the same load twice! Dah! However, the other evening as I sat and surveyed the damage of yet another day, I had an epiphony. Really, it was inspiration as Heavenly Father helped to lift my perspective. Each piece of clutter was evidence of everything I had tried to do that day and was a symbol of my intentions and efforts. Pile of dishes? My family was fed. Toys everywhere? We played hard today. Board books piled
with scriptures piled on toddler development book? Suddenly I was able to look around and count the blessings of the day and think about what everything signified. I'm not sure that I'll be capable of that level of introspection every evening, but it really was a 'Count your Blessings' kind of thing where everything slips into focus for a moment. Pretty cool.
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