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I am going through Carrie's bag of artwork that we got to take home after her preschool Family Night. There are beautiful brightly colored butterflies that I can't help but to want to tape on some of my windows. There are pictures where she can clearly explain who is who and what they are doing. What do I do with them? How can I tuck them away in a drawer?
I look around my kitchen and dining room and see the wonderful display from her creative hand and wonder what my house would look like if I wanted what we call a "Museum House."
There was a time when my house was clean and orderly. There was a time when everything was neatly put in its place. I laugh to myself because that was a time when my husband wasn't even home. He was on the road as a consultant. I saw him on the weekends. We lived on the weekends, so it wasn't exactly the cleanest house. And by Monday evening everything was put back in its place. A clean, orderly house. A quiet house. A lonely house. It was close to the "Museum House," although we were newlyweds so we had not yet had the chance to purchase "Museum House" furniture.
At this very moment, there is a dollhouse -still waiting for final decoration- in front of the fireplace. There is at least one load of laundry on my couch waiting to be folded. There are puzzles on the bottom shelf of the endtable in the living room. A dog bed beside the window by the front door...because I know how much Sampson loves to be on the lookout.
My dining room table now has papers spilling over that the kids have worked on...pouring their creativity into "gifts" for their parents...and water spills where the watercolor paint got a bit messy. Where do blankets go...you know...the ones you cuddle up with when you're watching a movie? I don't have a "place" for them...the closet is already taken with the basket of shoes and basket of musical instruments.
And so my house is not a "Museum House." Far from it. But this is a house where laughter is heard, where smiles are abundant, where memories are made. My house is far from clean 90% of the time when we have people over...for whatever the reason. We have board meetings here, we have parties here...we have spontaneous-no reason- get togethers here. And no one seems to mind that there's a dollhouse in front of the fireplace. No one seems to mind my butterflies on the window.
Will people remember the incredibly clean house? Nope. But they will remember the Johnson house as being one of the most fun places to be at. Where life is lived and lived well.
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