There’s Just Something About Mary
38 As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. 39 She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. 40 But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”
41 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, 42 but few things are needed—or indeed only one.[f] Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10: 38-42 NIV
As a mother of five kids, I’ll take almost ANY opportunity to leave the house to get a little time by myself. Even a trip to the grocery store without kids is considered a mini-vacation. I can make that trip last a loooong time.
At some point, though, I have to go home, and the moment I walk through the door I start to question why I ever left in the first place.
Hours-old food is stuck to the countertop, unwashed pots and pans are strewn all over the kitchen, a dog or cat has produced some bodily fluid that remains on the floor because nobody wanted to touch it, and evidently it was a good day to play outside in the mud puddles. Muddy clothes and footprints create a path from the kitchen to the bedrooms.
My once relaxed state shiftsinto high anxiety and full-blown tension. Before I even take off my coat and put down my purse, I swoop into action picking things up and putting things away. And this is just the kitchen.
All sense of calm is gone.
Growing up, I was raised in a home where we cleaned the house once a week whether it needed it or not. Everything had a place. Honestly, I really can’t recall a time when, other than a few small piles of laundry, anything random sat around our house. Nothing EVER seemed to be out of place.
There was even a nice, pretty tray on our clothes dryer to collect my dad’s wallet, spare change, keys, and miscellaneous pocket items when he came in from the field. He was a farmer! There should have been all kinds of dirt and grunge there.
I haven’t lived in my childhood home for over 35 years, but there is still a deep-seated level of discomfort and anxiety as I inhabit a home that is in complete contrast to the one I was raised in.
Several years ago, when my mother-in-law and I returned from one of these rare trips without kids, I’m certain she could read the immediate frustration and tension radiating off of me as soon as we stepped through the door and into the chaos. I also remember her laughing (just a little bit) as she threw out some pretty profound words:
“One of these days…you’re going to miss this.”
I know that I must have looked at her like she was crazy, and I’m sure that I raised my eyebrows at her as I declared that I most certainly would not miss all of the mess and the clutter.
She lowered her voice and said, “It’s pretty quiet around our house these days.”
I let that sink in as I looked around my house at everything that compelled me to cringe and move into action. If my house were clean and uncluttered, everything in its place, what would that mean?
It would mean:
- My kids are no longer living in my home.
- My kids and their friends/girlfriends/boyfriends are not hanging out at my house where I know they are safe, and I know what kind of people they are becoming.
- My kids are living their lives and pursuing their own interests somewhere else, perhaps with someone else.
- I won’t be seeing my kids on a daily basis to ask them about their day and to find out what’s new in their lives.
- I won’t know when I will get to see them again.
I’ll be honest, that hit me like a ton of bricks, but it put things into perspective for me.
Mary had the right idea when Jesus came to her home for a visit. She stopped what she was doing to spend time with him, because THAT was what was important. Martha knew that his visit was important, too, but she spent her time cleaning and prepping. She spent her time dwelling on the perceived unfairness of all she needed to do to make Jesus’ visit special that she was missing out on what was truly special about his visit: the conversation, the fellowship, the relationship.
I was being a Martha.
Today, I try to look at my home through a different lens. It’s a lens that I’m sure no one else shares, but I know what it means to me. I try to look at the clutter and mess as a sign of life and vitality in my home. I try to resist the urge to pick up after everyone so that I can spend that time in a relationship with my family because that is what’s important.
There will always be things to do around the house, but the time my children spend here is limited. I look at each one of them as a precious gift, and my time is better invested in them.
I want to be a Mary.
Father God,
I thank you so much for the blessing of children. It becomes pretty easy to see in them what you must see in me. They make a mess of things just like I do, yet you crave that relationship with me nonetheless. You’re with me always, not just when it’s convenient.
Please help me to not lose sight of my responsibilities to my children; help me to prioritize my relationship with them over the busyness of my own life. Help me to look away from my insignificant distractions and really listen to them. Guide me to sit with them and to have real conversations with them, unrushed. Help me to be available to them, just as you are to me.
I ask that you show me how to be more like Mary and less like Martha.
In Jesus’ name I pray,
Amen
