entropy

Simply put, entropy is a real pain in the butt.

Mysteriously, a toy that had been tucked nicely away mere minutes before...now abandoned on on the floor. A hand towel, previously hung on the towel rack...now a damp heap on the bathroom counter. The snack cupboard left open, the silverware drawer pulled out. These are the details that plague my life.

"How did that get...?"
"But I just put that..."
"Where did that...?
"Why can't they just...?"

The tendency toward disorder may be evidenced more in homes like mine, where small children live. Or maybe it's more of a bane in a house full of teenagers? I'm sure college dorm rooms and bachelor pads are fine examples of entropy too, although it's doubtful that the residents could care less.

Me? I care.

It's not that I'm a neat freak. In fact, I can tend to have my little "piles" like so many people do. I'm even pretty lax about the level of cleanliness of my house, especially around the edges. But this quick reversal of my work, this seeming disrespect, could be my undoing. It makes my efforts around the house so futile, somehow. As though nobody else even gives a hoot.

But as with so many other things in life, I suspect there's a reason for entropy.

Maybe it's to keep us from becoming satisfied with our life here on earth, complacent. Or maybe to help us realize that God is the only one who can truly renew. He alone sustains, He alone makes new. And He alone brings lasting wholeness.

But for now, I walk the balance of order and ever-increasing disorder. And long for the perfection of heaven!

these short years

Something I've been thinking a lot about lately is how fleeting this time as a young family is. Everyone always says "it goes so fast," and "just wait-- they grow up so fast." It's so easy to nod and say "I know, I know." And then dismiss it.

But when I take a step back and take a look at the big picture, at the span of our lives, and how few years our kids really will be at home...it's a bit staggering. We will hopefully have many years to know our children as adults, but only a handful of time where they will be under our wing and in our home.

So I'm trying to cherish these days, cluttered though they are. Laden with trains and cars, finger paintings and Sunday school papers. Sticky with peanut butter, Popsicle juice and yogurt. I've decided I can live with smelling like spit-up on a daily basis, and having wet spots on my clothes from the morning on. I guess I can even live with our adult time in the evenings being interrupted over and over by a small person who just wants to "tew [us] somefing." Something like, he had a scary dream (last night I noted that this child had not yet been to sleep, and Jeff said: "Feel free to have a scary dream after you've gone to sleep.") Or he is scared of a lion. Or he has yet another owie.

In her book "Celebrate Home," Angie Peters writes: "We should embrace this time, hog it, enjoy it, use it, make the most of it, indulge in it like a chin-deep bubble bath that won't be so luxuriously hot or bubble-full forever." And she's right. Because from the moment our little ones are born, they, and us as parents, begin the process of growing apart.

So bring on the baby vomit, the teething, the crying jags. Bring on the wonder of experiencing life for the first time...all of those firsts. I'm going to relish watching my boys laugh at one another's silly jokes, love on their baby brother, explain to me with painstaking detail what happened in the story at Sunday school. And I'm going to remember that when they invite me to play, it's an honor. What a privilege to be invited into their world of wonder. Because one day soon...these days of sticky hugs and kisses will be over.