In our humanness, we often get caught up in the “things of this world.” That’s typical. (I use “typical” instead of “normal” as much as possible because, how the heck can we dictate what “normal” is?)
Many of us have so many possessions. We work hard to acquire these things; we treasure them; we boast about them; we often think we still don’t have enough of them; we covet what others have. We’ve been conditioned to do this. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with having beautiful things unless we lose sight of everything else.
Working in the world of interior design, home staging, and organization, I love what I do. I believe in beauty with simplicity. But, despite my best intentions, I still have so much to learn about always being cognizant about what’s really important.
When you’re alone in the dark, just you and God (or the name you have for your Divine Power), what do you think about? Do you wish you had someone else’s life or someone else’s home? It’s easy to do that sometimes, isn’t it? Many of us have been there, but God has given us this life.
We may not always choose how we’re treated by the rest of the world, but we do get to decide how we treat others. Sadly, some of the most adverse circumstances happen right inside people’s own homes. That’s precisely the opposite of a peace-full home.
I’m very fortunate that my grandchildren live nearby. My eight-year-old granddaughter and I baked brownies for dinner yesterday and made a big salad and lasagna with my Mom’s Bolognese recipe. Lauren added the spices to the pot with care. She meticulously layered the pasta, sauce, and cheeses as she built the main dish. She took her time measuring the ingredients for the brownies, then set the table, carefully choosing the perfect placemats and napkins.
She even made place cards with each person’s name and an image representing something they’re good at. She planned the steps to toss the salad, plate the food, and serve water, with at least four revisions.
We didn’t rush through it to “get to the next thing.” Lauren was beyond excited and filled with joy and couldn’t wait until her Mom and Brother got to our house. We laughed a lot. We hugged a lot. We talked about all the things that fill an eight-year-old girl’s mind.
And, as we connected, I knew that there was God in that lasagna. There was unbridled joy, and our home was full of peace.
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