I have a hard time living with works in progress.
A long to-do list makes me antsy.
I usually only read one book at a time.
I struggle to break large tasks into smaller ones.
The half knit hat stares at me accusingly.
So, to live in a construction zone is miserable. Our main family area is torn to pieces while walls are redone. This work of redoing meant tearing down paneling, new framing, re-insulating and new drywall. We - meaning Husband- is on the mudding and sanding part of the dry wall. But the work will be far from done when that task is complete. There will remain painting, trim and molding and the new built-in bookshelves and the ledge the length of the wall to build, paint and install. When his work is done, then there is the matter of the carpet. Worn before and now battle scarred.
In the meantime, the entire contents of that room have thrown up in every other room of the house. In a small house, with smallish children, that's a lot of contents. (I'm the overly organized type and make great use of space. There wasn't a nook or cranny in the room that wasn't in use.)
It's all very disconcerting. Some days it's barely tolerable. Others, I feel skin-crawling crazy over the mess that we're living in and with, day in and day out and what feels like no end in sight.
It's this project that makes me come face to face with how difficult it is for me to live with works in progress.
And it's a sudden understanding that we are all - me, Husband, Boy 1 and Boy 2 - and every other person we meet, know and love - works in progress.
Does God every feel skin-crawling crazy over the messes I make?