We walk in the door after church.
Even though I’ve been up before dark with my paint and my candle vigil, even when the ham has slow cooked in the crock pot through the morning divine service, the brussel sprouts were frozen and the sweet potatoes still needed cutting.
And then the table, and then the…
My wonderful plans for a Sunday ham dinner are suddenly halted by the dream-catcher’s reality that Sunday ham dinners don’t just magically appear overnight. Time for plan B.
“Could we save the ham for supper?”, I ask.
Maybe then I’ll be hungry…
“What are we going to have for lunch then?” It’s an honest question my husband is asking. I’ve got nothing against honest questions. And besides, the man is hungry now.
I open the pantry.
“Peanut butter and jelly?”, I tried, I really, really, did. I give him my doe eyes and sweet voice and everything. He doesn’t have to think about it long before giving me an answer. Leaning up against the stove he speaks the trusted words of a friend–
“Finish what you started.”
I needed that.
He sounds so matter of fact, but I know it’s all in love. These lives we’re given, this work in progress, it’s all for love. We might have to wait another hour before we eat, but the sweet potatoes will be cooked (mostly), and we will enjoy our Sunday ham dinner.
When it’s all said and done, I find my afghan and coffee, my living room comfort to stop and stare. This is more like it. A little one brings me a book. “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far, away,” I’m surrounded by children and stories. This is the joy I signed up for.
The moment soon passes me by. They scatter again for their afternoon quiet time, and I’m pondering those words, “Finish what you started.” The mind, the home, the whole world is teeming with unfinished art. This is the image of God. He begins. He finishes.
He speaks, he asks me what I’m thinking about.
“I’m thinking about what a mess the mud room is.”
It’s an honest answer.
“You want me to have the kids come back?” he asks.
The hallway is finished.
“No, that’s alright. Today’s the day of rest…thanks though.”
We agree on popcorn for supper.
And if the shoe fits, well…
The shoes can wait, for God can breathe.
The world can hope again.