Scattered books and pencils, a pile of apple cores, a closed laptop. A sheet of stickers, a ribbon, a phone drying out in a baggie of rice. Several dirty dishes and a warped weekly planner, salvaged and mangled from a coffee spill that stained it through December…in case you were wondering why the phone was drying out in the first place. This is our kitchen counter today.

Not every day is this messy, but some days are worse. Life happens here.

I kept trying to clean it throughout the day – I put the dishes in the dishwasher, turned back around, and four art projects had magically taken their place. I gathered up pencils and books, put them away, and came back to find an abacus, a bottle of glue, and a stack of construction paper. It’s like trying to slay the hydra.

It won’t always be like this; I know these days are brief — a blink, a flick of a page. Random strangers I meet in public tell me so quite often, right after they take a head count of the half-dozen with me and say my hands are full. Yes, they’re all mine. Pray for me.

And so, from the day we heard, we have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God.

– Colossians 1:9-10

Our baby is in kindergarten, and as she’s practicing handwriting I hear myself saying things like, Go slow, carefully, and you’ll only have to do it once. You won’t need the eraser.

The kittens, those tiny twerpedoes, are growing, but still not to be trusted when we leave the house. We lock them in our room, but it’s a tricky business because one of them thinks she’s a racehorse and the other thinks he’s a cougar, and trying to contain them both behind the door when I’m running late and in a hurry is like trying to corral lions at the Circus Berserkus. I’m not even out the door myself before at least one of them flies past me, escaping toward the stairs.

And I hear Him telling me, too: Go slow, carefully, and you’ll only have to do it once.

May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy, giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light. 

– Colossians 1:11-12

It was when I was finishing last night’s post that I spilled the coffee – moving too fast, too late at night, too much on my mind, and the decaf went flying. It splashed over the calendar, the schedule, the to-do lists, the whole mess. It was a fitting end to a day that felt stained and darkened. I shook off the planner and scrubbed the floor while the pages soaked it all in.

He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.

– Colossians 1:13-14

And He’s teaching me to soak it in, too – to notice more, to pray more, to enjoy more. Be bold, Love, but with care and caution, He says. You won’t need the eraser.

The stains on the days in my planner will lessen as the weeks pass. Every week is the flick of a new page, with less stain, more sanctification, even at the Circus Berserkus.

This is day 25 of Without Ceasing: 31 Days of Relentless Prayer. Find the other posts here. To get new posts right in your inbox, subscribe here.