I went to visit a good friend this weekend. When I walked into her town house, the Christmas tree was still up. The laundry piled on a chair in the basement where I was sleeping and toys scattered the floor.
When I asked for a broom (as a prop, not for cleaning purposes), she told me she didn’t have one. To which her husband replied. Yes we do. Beside the fridge.
It was just like my house. But neater.

The other day I had some friends over unexpectedly and we had to make our way through dolls and toys and legos just to put our purses down. And I didn't even flinch.
Because they know me. It wasn't the first time they have seen laundry baskets in my living room, dog hair in the corners and dirty dishes in the sink. They know my mess. And came in anyways.

Most of my favorite friends don't require knocking, much less picking up first. Or makeup. Or even getting out of my pjs.

Sometimes me and another friend send pictures back and forth to see whose house is messier. And I shockingly, I don't always win.
Or some pictures of ourselves that would make me cry if they ever made it to facebook.
And for some reason.
The messy makes me like them even more.
Seeing someone’s mess, makes me feel better about my own.
(and that statement alone should tell you that I have issues!)
And I don’t mean so much my dirty laundry or my greasy hair.
But mostly my not so together cluttered heart.
I’m tired of hiding it. Of trying to pick up. Of not letting people in my car because they might never find their way through all the coffee cups and juice boxes.
Of showing them the picked up ready for company version of me.
Instead. Seeing someone’s mess. Means it is ok to show them mine.
The dirty dishes. The junk drawer. Those habits that I still can’t break. My questions. That I can sometimes be mean or jealous or insecure. Because what I’m afraid of most isn’t that telling you that I can’t remember the last time I changed my son’s sheets. Or that I haven’t plugged in the vaccum in over a month. That I actually prefer to wear dirty jeans. But that not only are my closets a mess, but that so is the rest of me.
And lets be honest.
Most of us are. Atleast parts of us.
So, show me yours and I’ll show you mine.


Margie said...

Oh, yes, I LOVE walking into other people's houses and seeing mess! On the other hand, I am terribly self-conscious about my own! I want to overcome it enough to open the door and have people in. I used to have neighbors that dropped in constantly, and we never worried about it - it was just that way. But now they're gone and the fix-up-for-other-people insecurity is back. Hate it.

I'm committed to writing about mess this year; rather writing with authenticity. About my heart and ways I've failed. I don't do that well, but it's time to turn over a new leaf. But you, my friend, are great at it. Your honesty can take my breath away.

Sarah said...

Oh, thank you. My house looks like this today (and most days) and tonight I'm not going to even feel guilty as I ignore it and go to bed. And I think you're right about the other kind of mess, but I don't have the first clue about talking about that. Thanks for the encouragement.

At least the dishes in the sink are really cute dishes.

Kate said...

Mess. Yup. Here the toys don't even have homes, they just migrate to other piles. Everywhere. And aren't sinks made for holding dirty dishes? And if someoe doesn't have dirty laundry or clean laundry out... well... I don't know that I can trust them. They are hiding something.

But the real mess, the mess in my head and my heart where my questions outweigh any certainties, where my thoughts form puddles and crust over before I can get to them, that mess is hard for me to show. But it's there.

Beth (and Eric) said...

So true.
And at least your messy pictures are cute & colorful! ;)

I love you!

Young Mom said...

I am messy too. Still not brave enough to let other people see more than a glimpse of it here and there. Maybe I just don't have a friend like that. :)

mommaof3 said...

When are you coming back to town? You can come into my mess anytime!

When I was mentoring a college gal as we came into the drive way for the first time I looked to her before I opened the garage door. I asked her if she was ready. I said "This here is real life." Then I opened the door.....

Hmmmm, that's the same thing I said to my sister before I revealed my stretch marks after baby #1......