I have a lamp. Actually I have several lamps, but there is one lamp in particular that has seen better days in its short life. Here it is:
This is a lamp, my friends, that does not know the meaning of ‘defeat.’ Mainly due to the fact that it is a lamp. Even so, this lamp has the courage to keep lighting up my living room, despite its broken neck and busted shade, battle wounds from one of my kids knocking it over while surreptitiously hanging out behind the corner table. It is lamp that illuminates the floor behind the table where I grumpily retrieve half of a box of tissues that my toddler Stitch has thrown down there like some kind of Benevolent Tissue God of the dust bunnies. A lamp that highlights my children’s artwork, which can only be described as ‘not unpleasant’ at best and ‘stuff of my nightmares’ at worst. Granted, it’s a large range, but as an example, you can make out the eyeless one-horned snowman that my son made in pre-kindergarten. Creepy.
But I digress. This lamp, it serves us, even when it could probably be described as a fire hazard. In a more self-respecting household, junk. But not here. We won’t forsake it, when it tries so hard to put a little light into our lives.
Sometimes as a mom I feel kind of like this lamp. I feel totally busted, usually because my kids have tripped me up, but the list also includes forgetting to do something important, being neglectful of my spiritual walk with God, and an unhelpful yet irresistible urge to procrastinate, which often leads to self-loathing over my messy house and endless list of to-do’s. And when all of these things strike on the same day, my family still needs me, even when this Lampstand would rather hide herself under a bowl where it is nice and private and nobody can poke their tiny fingers into her fluffy belly. (Seriously, is it just my toddler? Or do all of them have a fluffy mommy tummy touching compulsion?)
And just like this lamp, I know that someday I will be made whole. My brokenness will be healed by the one who loves me so much that He bought me with the blood of his own son. Just the thought makes my light shine a little brighter.
I will, however, be pretty surprised if I arrive to be glorified and Jesus pulls out some kind of Holy Epoxy Glue. Will not have seen that coming.