Friday, July 30, 2010

Of white picket fences and tree forts

In the perfect world I would have a little pink house (it's cute trust me!) with a white picket fence trimming the front yard. A huge tree in the backyard with a daddy-made tree fort way up high. A chocolate lab laying in the grass under the tree just waiting for the kids to come back down to play. Two boys and two girls of course.

In the perfect world I would have a spotless house with white slip covered couches and a recliner for Mr. Wonderful, dinner on the table when he came home and a nice, relaxing dinner as a family at the table. A farmhouse table. Just to the left of the kitchen. They boys would share a room painted a grey-ish blue all decorated in a nautical theme and then the girls would have the most whimsical room you could imagine.

In the perfect world Mr. Wonderful and I would walk hand-in-hand everywhere we went. We would write mushy love notes and leave them around the house for the other one to find. We would sit in the hot tub together and have a glass of wine after the kids were all nestled in bed. We would talk about the day we had, about the future, the children, about growing old together and about our next date. A date where we didn't ague over dinner, where we completely and totally enjoyed the company of one another even if no words were spoken. Where we laughed so hard I cried. Where Mr. Wonderful really and truly felt like Mr. Wonderful.

You know, in a perfect world.

But you see, we don't live in a perfect world. We live in a world full of stress, work, school, crying children and a toddler right smack dab in the middle of OUR bed. A world where instead of that peaceful dinner on the dining room table there lies a stack of bills that may or may not get paid this week. The clean white slip covers are piles of unfolded laundry waiting for someone to pay attention to them. And that tree house, it's just a pile of lumber behind the garage that's never been built.

And somewhere under the piles and the mess I have become hidden. Hidden from Mr. Wonderful. Hidden from myself. Hidden from my children and most importantly, hidden from God. I have let the cares of the days burry me. Just as the laundry buries the couch and the bills cover the table. Where have I gone? Who have I become? This is far from my perfect world. Am I even in the right house? Will I ever be able to find MY perfect world again? Does it exist?

Across the room I hear the laughter coming from my children as they play. Without a care in the world. They are having so much fun with what they have and here I am. Lonely, crying, depressed. Sitting at the computer typing away, felling sorry for myself. Sorry for my family and my own marriage. Sammy knocks the tower down with a thud. It jolts me. The kids cheer as they see the damage that has been done. Just as the Devil is sitting behind me cheering himself on.

Helping the children pick up the blocks to build it back up again it hits me. I hear that once familiar voice in my ear again. He whispers to me, "I miss you. Come back to me. Sit on my lap and stay for a while. You can cry if you need to. Come and let me wash it all away. Let me wrap my arms around you. I created you and I love you as no one else can. And when you let me love you again the chaos of your world fades and you will see the perfect would that I have created just for you. I never promised it would be easy or exactly the way you dreamt it would be but you have all you need. You just need the right tools to make it right again."

And now I leave you with one of my favorite songs.