But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8 (NIV)
Youngest son just called. His flight from Brazil arrived on time. They are headed home from Miami in the church van. Kind church members drove down to pick them up. ETA is 1:45 AM. Husband and I are debating whether to take a little nap or just stay up. We have enjoyed our twelve days of empty nesting. Being able to sleep with all the lights off in the house. To drift off without the drumbeat of a television, radio or heavy footsteps over our heads. To know that the house will be just as I left it when I come back home. To still have ice cream in the freezer, snacks in the cupboard, leftovers in the fridge. To clean the entire house and have it stay that way. The upstairs bathroom smells clean. There are no piles of clutter at the back door. I can see the kitchen table for the first time in years. Laundry and dishes have been cut in half. I don’t wonder how many will be home for dinner. Yes, it’s been nice respite. Still, I missed the big lunk. I missed his presence. I missed hearing about his day. I missed his girlfriend’s lively chatter. I missed hearing him tell me he loves me and saying thanks for a home cooked meal. I missed him. I just didn’t miss the mess that comes with him. About 2:15 AM Eastern Daylight Savings Time, there is going to be a big explosion on the west coast of Florida. That’s when my child will figure out I cleaned his room while he was gone. He is going to be really really angry. He doesn’t like me going into his space and invading his privacy. But, it had to be done. He had a chance before he left to clean it up and didn’t. So, I did, hauling five garbage bags of trash and about twenty loads of laundry downstairs. All his clothes are now put away in drawers and color coded. Whites in one drawer, browns in another. Blues, greens, black, orange. Each has their own drawer. His nice clothes are hanging neatly in his closet. His prized possessions dusted and lined up like soldiers on his shelves. You can see the floor of his room, and it’s vacuumed. His bed is made, clean sheets and blankets. I gave him a new bedspread. But, he’s still going to be mad. I hope it doesn’t take him long to get over it. I am eager to hear about his trip. I guess I know a little about how God must feel. He loves us so very much. He wants to have a relationship with us and enjoy conversations with us. He can love us without liking the messes we make. So, that’s the good and the bad. What’s the ugly? That bag of nasty, nasty Amazon River water soaked laundry he will be dumping at the back door. It’s still okay. It means my baby’s home.