Today I participated in a sit-in, or rather, a sit-down in this case. I occupied the couch in my living room for most of the day in protest of the unrealistic cultural expectations placed on us as mothers.
My littles were feeling under the weather, and I was pleased at all the kid shows that were available on AmazonPrime--7 seasons of Curious George, a new season of Sesame Street, Wild Kratts, and more--so on the couch we sat.
We sat in protest of the toys all over the floor that didn't get picked up and put away by lunchtime. We sat in protest of the two hampers of laundry across the room that taunted me and beckoned me to fold them.
We sat. Together.
And we snuggled on the couch. And I smelled her soft hair and rubbed her sweet belly and whispered a quiet "I love you" in her ear. And we kicked a beach ball in the house and we read books and we played Legos on the floor.
I sat in protest of the organization guru's and the "clean mama's" who, simply by the photos of their pristine homes and tidy cupboards, can easily make you think that you are less then if your house isn't as clean and put together. All. The. Time. If I take a photo in which the surrounding area looks tidy, it's because I shoved all the crap out of the little square of space that's visible in the camera viewfinder.
I sat and didn't bother glancing at the kitchen floor that hasn't been mopped in a year. And I stacked today's mail on top of yesterday's, which was still on the counter. The counter that probably hasn't been wiped off.
I sat in protest of the healthy eating mommy armies, which make you think that if you provide anything less then a sandwich in the shape of an autumn leaf, made out of homemade, grain-free bread that you got up at 4am to put in the oven and homemade jam you canned from berries from your backyard garden this summer and almond butter you whipped up in your food processor {because it's so much cheaper then buying it at the store}, and organic apples and raw milk cheese cut into festive fall shapes with mini cookie-cutters and a Trader Joe's something-or-other-healthier-option-dessert… that you are a terrible mother and have failed miserably.
I sat because some days it just takes too much effort to cut up a non-organic apple to go with a traditional, no-bells-and-whistles, peanut butter and jelly sandwich. On regular bread. And that's ok.
I sat in protest of being busy for the sake of being busy. That your value is found in productivity.
I sat in protest of defining your worth by how well you are keeping up with the Pinterest Generation.
I sat in protest of Facebook culture that tells us that our lives have to be boast-worthy and enviable and together at all times…because everyone else is, right?
I sat because…living a normal, messy, chaotic, frustrating, joyful, beautiful, mundane life…is okay.
We want to run from the mess, hide the mess, pretend it's not there, or shove it into the closet and pray that no one opens the door when company is over. But God wants us to invite Him into the mess, because He will be glorified there.
The mess is okay because my value isn't found there. It's not what I do or how well I do it or even who thinks I'm doing it well or not.
I am who Christ says I am. Nothing more. Nothing less.