Stuck in the Cracks
My sister spent the summer out west. The desert is full of many beautiful cracks and crevices.
My dining room table is one of my favorite pieces of furniture in the house. It is a tall farmhouse vintage style table that already looks relatively old, even though it’s new. I picked out the table with the intention of creating a space where my family could gather comfortably and seat lots of people when we have company.
The other day as I was wiping it down I noticed a few things. First, my table is so sticky! I don’t really know what I’m feeding my children that creates the stickier than glue substance, but nevertheless I lovingly scrubbed it off with absolutely no grumbling; okay, maybe a little grumbling. I also noticed that in between the sleek cracks of my table were tiny crumbs, pieces of play-doh, and paper that were shoved deep in the crevices. I worked for a solid twenty minutes with various tools trying to dislodge what felt like thousands of unwanted particles from the table, hoping no one who ever ate at my table judged what they saw smashed within it. Eventually, I had to walk away satisfied with the fact that I would likely never completely get rid of all those extra messy tidbits.
The shrapnel in the cracks are reminders of so many sweet blessings. They are leftover pieces from the meals we’ve had with special company full of laughter. They are pieces of the play-doh creations made by my sweet girls as they played and imagined kindly together. They are the tiny escaped markings from stick figure drawings that didn’t make the cut to the fridge but represent hours of creativity. The cracks in my table are a destination for the leftover parts of our family experiences.
As I rinsed the dirt-soaked rag clean, I wondered about the imaginary cracks in my life where bits and pieces of past experiences have settled that I also desire to clean and hide. Will I ever be completely clean? Do people still see leftover pieces from the many messes I’ve made?
We can ask these questions with confidence because we have a God who answers them completely in Jesus. He has fully washed away all the messes we’ve made and has scrubbed us permanently clean. This doesn’t mean unwanted remnants aren’t still showing themselves in my life, but I can trust that God will use even the unsightly parts of my story for his glory and my own good. We don’t need to worry if people see our imperfections because hopefully, like the sticky crumbs in my table that point to enjoyable meals of the past, our messy lives will point others to the unfailing love of Jesus that knows no end.
The crack in my table that is full of love and lots of crumbs.
