I love a crisp, clean home. I always have, and I'm certain that I always will.
This little one, however, is teaching me to not only embrace the mess, but to appreciate it.
Every memory we make in our beloved bungalow's rooms is being painted with vivid colors in my mind. Every bruise I get on my knees from crawling around on its vintage hardwood floors is leaving imprints that go much deeper than my skin. Every toy I put back in the bin it was taken out of is one that I got to watch be curiously studied by someone who is just beginning to learn about the world around him. Every dish I wash + all the clothes I fold are tangible evidence of the God who always provides for us.
Most days I clean up Braxton's play area while he naps, just so I can watch him make a brand new mess again when he wakes up. Our home may not stay in the same constant state of tidy as it once did, but it's never been more beautiful than it is right now.