As I reasoned with myself, though, I reasoned that it is unwise to move the couches every week to clean under them. It is unwise for physical reasons, and for time reasons. I am not really strong enough to move couches, so I could get injured, and it doesn't make sense to spend the time it would take every week. Not moving the couches, though, leaves me needing to reckon with the mess.
I reckon that the mess reminds me that I am not perfect. The mess reminds me that something good enough has to be good enough. The mess reminds me that everyone has stuff they cover up. Sometimes it's good to look under the couch. Sometimes it's not.
Looking under the couch might look like getting real and vulnerable with friends or family about struggles. That happened in conjunction with the couch moving. I was at a near breaking point and had to talk to my mom about it. When she and my dad came down to help, she also saw the mess under the couches. Life is like that sometimes. It exposes our stuff.
There are times are not good to look under a couch, too. Times I need to run out the door. Times when moments are limited. Times I need to invest in friends and family rather than navel-gazing. Times when my ego-strength is not strong enough to endure more introspection. Times that just aren't "right."
In my home and in my life, there were always be stuff "under the couch." It takes wisdom to know when to look and when not to look. It takes trust in God's sovereignty to deal with the stuff that emerges when I am not looking. May God grant both, as I am sure I will have many more opportunities in this life to see what's "underneath the couch."
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