The Crumbs of Holiness

A couple of days ago, I had a temper tantrum over the ever-present crumbs that continue to find their home in our house. Some like to live on our kitchen floor; some would rather stay on the countertops, and some like the view of our dining area from underneath the table.

As much as I try to escort them out of our house with a ride in the vacuum, their friends seem to take their places immediately.

It is a battle that is never-ending. And one that triggers things within me that are not pleasant.

Now, I don’t have to look very far to see who the usual culprits are. Watching my two young boys eat snacks and meals is like watching a crop duster fly over a farm. Between not being able to sit still, learning to chew with their mouths shut (honestly, can a boy make that much noise simply by chewing food), and leaning back in their chairs because they can’t reach the table to eat over their plates, they collect half of the food on their shirts. In contrast, the rest gets eaten and deposited onto the floor. Now, they are getting better with bringing their plates over to the sink when they are excused from the table, but with that comes a trail of food from the dinner table through the kitchen. I guess they think that if my wife Amy and I get lost and need help finding our way to the kitchen sink, there is a trail of food that can help us get there safely.

In addition to battling the crumbs on the floor daily, my younger one is a complete hoarder of every little stick and rock in the village of Worb. Amy and I find them in kitchen drawers, behind the TV, in his bed, in our bathroom cabinets, and, of course, on the floor.

So the other morning, I snapped when I tripped over the truck in the kitchen. I reached over two rocks and twigs for the paper towels to clean up the dinner from the previous night, which was still on our floor.

The crumbs had won. They touched off some things within me that needed to be dealt with.

Being a stay-at-home dad has been a beautiful experience, but it is not without its moments of insecurity.

The insecurity that rises when I think I am not “successful” because, for the first time, I am not “working.” (I put “working” in quotations because I didn’t know what working meant before staying home full time) Insecurity comes when people look at me with a puzzled look on their faces when I say that it was my wife’s job that brought us here. Which usually is followed up with, “Then what do you do all day?”

For a man growing up in an American culture that equates the amount of time you spend in the office and the money you make with the number of character traits that you exhibit, spending your days cleaning up floors and bathrooms, grocery shopping, and doing laundry without seeing direct results is a shot to your sense of self.

In the past, I often felt insecure when doing ministry work due to the constant feeling of not making a difference to others because it wasn’t visible or tangible to measure. Other times, I would get insecure when others would react to my work as “nice” and maybe even “cute,” but not as a real job because it didn’t provide for my family. Or even still, others would let me know that talking about God’s love is simpleminded and childish compared to the “important and real” work in the secular culture.

We all have things that trigger our feelings of not being “good” enough. My insecurities usually spark a need to prove my worth or find comfort in my inadequate feelings through actions or words.

Or, in the case of the other morning, it just all comes out in anger.

The floor’s messiness is just an indication of the messiness that I sometimes feel within my soul. The times that, for whatever reason, spark my inability to be pleased with myself. Yet, especially during these times, I have two places I go for comfort and truth.

God will always comfort my feelings of inadequacy. My wife, Amy, seems to be God’s visible presence here on earth. Both make me feel at peace with my wounds, sins, and insecurities. God’s light shines into my soul, exposing the shadows within…and He still wants to hang there for me to be His friend. My relationship with Amy exposes my selfishness and shortcomings, but she still comes in and smiles at me and hugs me as she walks over sticks, crumbs, and rocks.

So this morning, because of these two relationships, I woke up with the ability to smile at the crumbs from last night’s dinner.

To smile and be at peace with the messiness of my life…and our floor.

“Holiness is being willing to bear serenely the trial of being displeasing to yourself thereby letting yourself be for Jesus a pleasant place of shelter.”

-St. Therese of Lisieux