Nesting...

I think I could use a flannel board this year for Christmas.

Now, while my Sunday school teachers didn't use them, I've seen the little flannel scenes with movable flannel characters being used to teach Bible stories without the flash of video and cartoon characters. They're actually pretty neat, even if Jesus has to have his hands out the same way in every story.

If I get my New Testament flannel board, I'm going straight for Luke 10. I'm going to rip Martha out of her kitchen and hot glue her right next to Mary, sitting and listening at the feet of Jesus. Maybe if I frame it, I could finally remember.

Yesterday at my appointment, my fluid levels were even lower than last week. We have been preparing for a planned c-section next week Thursday, but the midwife told me that they would repeat my fluid check this Thursday, with a possibility that if they looked low, they'd just move the whole she-bang up. 

With all the waiting, this sounded fine to me. Fine, that is, until I thought about our chores. After having my family visit for Thanksgiving, we've had something going on every evening. With bed-rest, I can't accomplish much during the day, so we had planned on doing our cleaning on this Thursday night. As in the Thursday night that could possibly kick-off a four-day hospital stay and an entirely new life with a baby.

Last night, I started to panic.

What about the vacuuming? The counters are all messy! I need to mail out that package. Our floors haven't been mopped in weeks! 

Unfortunately, I could play Martha on screen any day. My anxiety often leads to what our librarian at Skyline calls being "snarky" (grumpy, testy, critical). It's not enough to be stressed, I need to point it at someone. Usually, it's my unsuspecting husband who has been gracious upon gracious to me. 

I found myself complaining and blaming, asking like Martha "Lord, don’t you care that my [husband] has left me to do the work by myself? Tell [him] to help me!”(Luke 10:40 NIV).

Obviously, this doesn't lead to very productive conversations, so I eventually went to the bathroom to cool off. There, I felt God whispering to me, "you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one..." (Luke 10:41-42). 

I felt my angry spirit sink. How easily I lose perspective! These could be the last few days we get to be "just the two of us." The time I wasted breathing hot criticism could have been used connecting, praying, dreaming. The many things I was worried about stole and bled the joy right out us. 

My newborn will care less if the tub is scrubbed or the sink completely free of dishes. She will be affected, however, if her parents have lost their unity, their love, and their respect for each other. She will be affected if her mama doesn't pray because she's too busy lamenting late library books. Nesting happens, yes. But it will be a rough bed if the mother has ripped and torn down branches in its making. 

This morning, I started spinning the idea out into more and more areas of my life.

One day, whether He takes me home or takes us all home, I will stand before Jesus.  (Never before have I understood the idea of Advent, remembering Jesus' first long-awaited coming and reflecting on his second, as much as waiting for our own baby to come.) He will want my "house" in order, yes. Just like we've tried to keep our house tidy in case the baby comes early, he wants my heart clean from sin and ready to receive him.

However, I think he could care less about the state of my floors. He won't want to hear about my crock-pot meals were pin-worthy. I don't even think he'll want to hear about all the books I read about him or all the acts of kindness I did as a nice Christian girl.

When I stand before Jesus, I think he'll want most for me to have focused on the few things needed, the one thing of being in his presence, soaking in his love. 

I don't want to forget this. When I am raising my daughter, I want to remember her heart toward Jesus is more important than the number of awards she wins. When I am serving the poor, I want to remember that being with the people Jesus loves the most is more important than how effective the program or my service might be. When I am looking over the worth of my day, I want to remember that the moments I spent as a beloved child in God's presence weigh far more than the times I can say I was organized or productive or well-balanced. 

Maybe you need a flannel board for Christmas this year, too. I pray that in the midst of the stress, the preparations, the expectations, you can sit down with your glue gun and stick that Martha in you right down. Don't be like me and be worried and upset about many things. In the end, only the time we spend at his feet really matters. That won't be taken away.