I have a confession to make.
I almost didn’t attend church because I was afraid to have someone over to my house. Well, I attended. I just didn’t want anyone over. The place where I went loves to come visit you in your home and answer any questions you may have about the congregation, the Bible, the people, etc…
I said I was busy.
For two months and a handful of days.
Then I cleaned the house as best as I could while taking care of the kid and working full time.
I don’t care how clean my house is, it will probably never be clean enough.
I got through that night, but I didn’t like it. The whole time I worried that my furniture didn’t match (it doesn’t – hubby is a college student). I wondered if they were looking at my stove and I wondered if there were any stains on it. Did the coffee splatter on the white?
I let my daughter make a “house” out of a large cardboard box and set it in the space behind the recliner.
Did that look bad?
When they left I let out a huge sigh of relief.
But, as they drove out of the driveway a thought occurred to me. Could those two men see the hoard that seemed to hang over my head? Were they given some God-like powers to see into my past, to know where I came from?
If they found out, would they come back? Would they allow me into their sparkling new church building?
Thankfully, they aren’t like that. They are loving and kind. But the hoard almost stopped me from having the people in my home.
I am still not comfortable having anyone over.
I am working on it.
One. Step. At. A. Time.
I breathe in deep and remind myself I am not the hoard.