The Car Wash

My car is filthy. Like, dirt roads and mud holes, dirty. Write your name on it, dirty. Car pool full of boys, dirty. Preschooler snacks and pre-pubescence - dirty. I pay a ridiculous amount to subscribe to a local car wash. Do you know, I drive by it every day with my dirty car? The car wash that I've already paid for-  to wash - my dirty car? I drive past it - every day. I always have a reason why I don't stop. Usually, it is that I will go tomorrow.

A dear friend of mine says, "cleanliness is close to Godliness"..oh Lawd, help me! We could eat dinner off of her car's floor. For real.

Tomorrow never comes. Charlie Brown "Linus" style dust cloud continues to follow my #CarFullofBoysandFriends. Soon, the dust cloud will be named because it is becoming the size of a storm. I know it. Yet, I still drive past the car wash. Every day. The car wash that has already been paid for.

This reminds me of something. Oh yes, I know! My life and Jesus' ability to wash away. To make new. I've been made new. Many years ago. However, there are still things that I carry. The dust on my car. That dust that I always think I'll wash off and let go of tomorrow. In the wash, that has already been paid for, I continue to drive by with my dirt. Tomorrow, I'll go.

I know He is in my mess, but what if I allowed Him to wash over me. The parts of me that I don't want to surrender. The parts of me that I know need His cleansing blood to wash over me again and again.

Recently my car has been gifted a large dent in the rear courtesy of my two reasons why we can have nothing-nice-in-this-phase-of-life-boys. I didn't ask for the dent. I didn't cause it. But, alas, it is there. The dent, the dust, and the precious boys that I adore. The boys I prayed for. The boys I thought I might not ever have. Dirty, messy, beautiful, mine.

 At car rider pick up, I usually feel the need to apologize as the door opens. But, I don't. Instead, I laugh. I smile. And in the words unsaid, I say, it's a season. Someday I am going to miss these smelly, messy people that I live for - who trash my car, dent the rear and leave snack wrappers to find their way home.

It reminds me of how God must feel about his daughter - me. Instead of apologizing when the dust ball comes rolling up on the scene. He smiles. He knows the car wash has already been paid for. He knows, I'll get there. He knows my heart, my mess, and loves me anyway.

Car wash, or not. He loves me anyway. He is always there. Patiently waiting to wash over me. He doesn't judge the mess when it finally pulls up. He restores. And, sends me back off into the world to get messy again.