Life is messy. Cliche, but true.
And it occurs to me as I am gathering laundry that I am behind on, again, and mulling over recent events among neighbors, that I don't like messy.
The two (paying) jobs that best suited my talents were both about organization. One was coming in behind a manager who was good in many ways, but not good at discarding mountains of unnecessary paper and organizing the necessary ones. The other was setting up a human resources department that needed to exist, but didn't. Instead, aspects of H.R. were handled by a variety of people in different departments.
And here is something that I think is weird. I like creating forms. The form that captures and organizes need information gives me a small thrill.
I like life neat and this recent emotional messiness has laid me low. I can deal with the messy house and piles of laundry. And, through God's grace, I hope to learn to deal with the other messiness, too.
Then I think about Jesus. He was God-made-man. How it must have grieved him to see, to be in, life here on earth. People twisting Holy teachings for selfish purposes. Others just completely misunderstanding. Sabbaths and festivals that had become something they were not intended to be. Followers who usually didn't understand what was going on. Some of them even vying for things that were not His to give. Those who wanted a political revolution, not a spiritual one.
Did He look ahead to the time of redemption as His expense for comfort?
And I whisper, reverently, "thank you, Jesus."