credit from Findingjoy.net - edited by me
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The gift of shoes in the middle of the room....
This is not staged but an actual representation of where Elise took off and left her shoes and a very common picture in our house.
My kids come home from school, kick off their shoes, and leave their bags near the front door or next to the couch. It can become a walking hazard due to the amount of stuff stripped off of them upon entering the doorway.
Let me tell you this – I’ve told them to not do that. Probably a good hundred times. I have told them to put their backpacks, sweaters, and their shoes in the closet in the hallway.
It hasn’t worked.
It used to really annoy me. Well, it still does, and I still wrestle with these feelings of "if I was a good mom they would do what I tell them to do" or "you are not strict enough and your children will grow up to be slackers"… but then I step over those shoes, down the hallway, in my room.
And there it all is.
Stuff. From living. (yeah...not going to post a picture!!)
My computer bag in the corner. A sweatshirt left next to my dresser. Empty water glass on the nightstand.
And in that moment, I have the perspective of grace. And more than that, in that moment I also realized how cool it must be for my kids – those moments of coming home – of working all day long and just getting to be.
You know what I mean? That just getting to be and kick off your stuff and be happy you are home. Without expectations and places to go and things to do.
So as I looked around I realized they just needed to be for a minute.
Now, instead of judging or getting irritated (I really try not to but not always successful) I kick the shoes under the coffee table in the living room, and put the backpacks and the sweaters in the hall closet. The shoes can't stay there. They know that, and I know that, and eventually they will find their way to the place where they belong.
Listen: they don’t do it to annoy me. They do that because they are safe here. Free. Loved.
Sometimes perspective teaches.
And this time? This time it taught me to stop harping and instead to start seeing that shoes, sweaters, and backpacks aren’t because they don’t love me or respect the rules, but rather are simply because, just like me, they are home.
Shoes don’t matter in the long run.
Perspective does. (and I will try to remember that)
So as I looked around I realized they just needed to be for a minute.
Now, instead of judging or getting irritated (I really try not to but not always successful) I kick the shoes under the coffee table in the living room, and put the backpacks and the sweaters in the hall closet. The shoes can't stay there. They know that, and I know that, and eventually they will find their way to the place where they belong.
Listen: they don’t do it to annoy me. They do that because they are safe here. Free. Loved.
Sometimes perspective teaches.
And this time? This time it taught me to stop harping and instead to start seeing that shoes, sweaters, and backpacks aren’t because they don’t love me or respect the rules, but rather are simply because, just like me, they are home.
Shoes don’t matter in the long run.
Perspective does. (and I will try to remember that)
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