This Beautiful Chaos
As the first authentic hint of fall blows in the evening breeze, I stand taking in my partial junkyard of a backyard. Our large lot backs up to six other neighbors, all fully fenced in. I think of when we moved here. How tidy it was. How neat. Our kids were small and this hadn't yet become one of their favorite adventure spots. The lawn was manicured. A metal shed showed signs of promise: a soon-to-be home for my mower, my weed eater and all our tools to manage the simple but spacious wonderland. I re-screened the back porch, pressure washed everything, and purchased new matching patio furniture envisioning peaceful dreams of a quiet retreat.
And then. The kids grew a little and invaded my oasis with, well, chaos. As I presently write, I sit in the middle of my yard on a stack of storage bins that never requested the backyard address that my kids chose for them, and I look at All. This. Stuff. Action figures, a deflated soccer ball, abandoned socks, several pages ripped out of a toy store catalog. I breathe a little deeper as I spot nice cups I normally drink out of now commandeered as shovels, and the battlefield remnants of fallen toys, pool noodles and the insides of a stuffed animal that our puppy chewed to oblivion when they were left outside after the 3 billionth admonition to "please clean up after you're done playing". After all, when you have five children all under the age of twelve, the one thing you've "gotta" have is a 55 lb. pit bull in her chewing stage!
I walk around to my shed - or at least what's left of it after countless opening and closings of the doors by curious little hands which broke them right off their hinges. I move past the now weather-worn trampoline and the mismatched fence pickets I rushed to repair when my puppy mysteriously infiltrated our neighbor's ranks like a scene out of "Shawshank Redemption"! At last, I arrive at my porch which sadly looks more like it belongs on a TLC intervention show than it does an oasis, and just then it hits me.
What in the world are my wife and I going to do when all this beautiful madness passes? What will we do when our space isn't strewn with chaos...because there are no longer young genius dreamers occupying it to make a mess? How will we cope when our yard is pristine...because it's empty?
I breathe in as I remember that so often the mess isn't an inconvenience. It's a declaration that life is present: wild, unbounded, coloring outside the lines, adventurous life! And life, for growing kids, is messy. It's supposed to be. As we grow, we go through processes of maturity that teach us character and responsibility and respect. We discover a maturity that beautifully molds our hearts and shows us how to clean some of the clutter we inadvertently leave in our wake. For that reason, I'm going to keep asking my kids to pick up their socks, to put toys in their proper place and to (please) let me drink out of my drinking cups! I will do that because it's part of the process. But so is the mess.
It is just then that I start to remember what Jesus said when He told us that all we are is little kids. Messy, wide eyed, little genius dreamers that still have more questions than we do answers and still rely on our Father with every breath. As He calls us to maturity, we will see clearly how to avoid many messes, and how to display the courtesy and initiative of picking up after the wake of what we inadvertently leave behind. But in all of it, our Daddy sits in our backyard - right now. After all, we are the temple where His Spirit chooses to dwell. He sits on some random storage bins that one day you'll soon see don't need there anymore. He looks at the toys, the disorganization of all the things that aren't quite in place...and He calls it a beautiful chaos. It is a sign that you are still alive, that you are still dreaming and that you are still growing up. And as you might have guessed, a big part of our maturity process will be learning to better listen and obey so our space isn't occupied with unnecessary junk. Yes, that's part of it. But so is the mess. So is the mess.
The wind blows across my face as I flash back to reality and I can't help but smile. I don't want to rush a single second of the growing process with my kids. I want them to grow naturally into who they are and I find now isn't the time to chide them. It's the time to hold them in my arms and make meaningful memories. With my heart full of joy, I walk through the junk into my house, as I stop and quietly remind my soul that there is a Father echoing that very same sentiment to me: to enjoy every second of the process as a messy kid.
