Yesterday was a bit of a disaster. It was the kind of day that made me think I believed in putting my kids in front of TV for hours and hours. It was the kind of day that made me frustrated to have five noisy boys who play loud and argue louder. It was the kind of day that started with good intentions and ended with much repentance.
I could blame it on the kitchen remodel. Because yes, it is still total chaos around here. I could blame it on the first day of Christmas break. Doesn't it seem like first day of break is always a bit weird? I could blame it on the pressure of being completely behind and unprepared for Christmas. Nope, not one present wrapped under the tree. I could blame it on the pregnancy hormones. Is it normal that I'm responding to stress with crying and nausea? I could blame it on all this...
...but ultimately, the remodel-the-boys-the-hormones-the-holidays didn't make me have a defeating day. My expectations did.
I wanted a clean house. I wanted cooperative children that wanted a clean house. I wanted Christmas music playing, instead of yelling while we cleaned the house. Do you see a theme here? I wanted a clean house for comfort, for normalcy, for some sense of readiness for the warm, joyous occasion that is Christmas.
I'm not the only one who had expectations. Troy expected to make greater progress on wood flooring and cabinet painting. The boys expected ease. And, well, you know what my expectations were. You never realize that an expectation has become an idol until you've made sinful attitude choices in response to your unmet expectations.
And as the man of the house confessed his lack of patience to the boys at dinner, I looked around and realized: The first Christmas happened in a dirty stable. There were no glittering lights and scented candles. Baby Jesus was not born into the welcome of warm cookies and freshly wrapped presents. He was born to weary, but expectant hearts. He was born to trusting, obedient parents. He was born into a world in need of a full renovation.
Those who waited for Jesus' arrival with expectancy for their own agenda were disappointed. Only the hearts that were expectant for His plan, His promise, His provision found rest and rejoicing.
I tell the boys at bedtime that we will try again tomorrow. We will try with expectant hearts...not expectant for our own selfish desires for comfort and happiness, but expectant for His.
Have a blessed weekend friends, setting your hearts in expectation of Him.
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