Jeni Looks Beyond

Looking beyond the here and now to a more substantial reality is something I’ve had a hard time doing lately.  The here and now are in my face, so to speak, and must be dealt with.  Oh, I have my not-so-rare moments of checking out, of daydreaming what could be, but that is not the looking beyond I’m talking about, because often my daydreams are not grounded in any kind of reality (moving to a bigger house, for instance). 

But looking beyond the dirty face and stained shirt to the soul, beyond the pile of laundry to the people who love and wear those clothes, beyond the sink of dirty dishes to the glorious view outside.  I want to develop the habit of looking beyond, and I’m going to practice with a picture I recently posted.

Here we have the evidence of a morning spent in the kitchen.  Ben made French toast for breakfast, and then I made pot pie with from-scratch pie crust for lunch, but Ben wanted chicken soup, so I gave him some of the pot pie filling to make into soup instead.  I was busy with a sick baby who needed to be held most of the day, so there sat the dishes.  Honestly, there is enough to be thankful for in that sink of dirty dishes to fill up several blog posts, but for now, let’s look beyond them. 

First notice the view.  Those trees, at least the ones closest to the camera, are in my yard.  MY TREES!  Let me stand here a moment and reflect on all the goodness of God poured into my life to bring me to a place of owning trees—lots of them.  Now, I know I’ve begun where I should have ended, but pull your view in just a bit and notice the tomatoes.  They are from our first attempts at a garden.  A pitiful attempt, but an attempt, nonetheless. 

And that hand lotion?  It’s there because a dear friend wanted hand lotion when she was at my house cooking one day—I see it all the time, but when I actually look at it, I pray for her. 

There are three clay bird whistles on my windowsill as well, though you may only notice one.  Every once in awhile, the boys get the urge to make bird calls, and their whistles are filled with water and bird music fills the kitchen. 

Two rocks have their home on the windowsill, too.  One is a mere shadow on the far left—it is the gypsum rose my husband purchased for me because I told him it was a rose that wouldn’t fade and I wouldn’t have to throw it out.  The rock in the middle is heart-shaped, found by one of my children. 

Lastly, the towel hanging to the right side is evidence of the care of my husband, who saw a clever way of hanging towels with cafe curtain clips and bought a pack so I could have a dish towel handy. 

Beyond.  Looking beyond the vomit and inconvenience of washing my sheets twice in one week to love the children and husband I am serving.  Beyond… to the willingness of my friend to drive 6 hours with my boys to fulfill my commitment and leave me to care for my girls.  Beyond… the temper tantrums and disobedience and whining to the promise of lovely young ladies if I am faithful to bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. 

God, help me always look beyond the shadow of my present circumstances to the incredible lightness and beauty of Your reality.