Letting Go of Homemaker Perfection

I’m not a full time homemaker but it certainly is a very large piece of my life as a wife and mother. I have spent a lot of hours in frustration because I wanted to be perfect at homemaking. I wanted every room to be clean and tidy. I wanted the laundry to smell fresh and be free of wrinkles. I wanted every meal to appear as if the photographers from Martha Stewart Living had just left my kitchen only moments before.

The problem with equating homemaking to perfection is that it exhausts you to no end. The laundry will never be done at my house. Never. Unless my family decides to convert to nudism for a weekend so I can get all caught up then it simply won’t ever be a real thing. I can keep fairly current on a good week but it won’t ever be complete. I’ve made peace with that.

My house will never be perfectly clean in every corner. I gave myself some grace a few years back and hired a cleaning team that comes to visit twice a month. I love them with my whole heart because they can do magic with a broom and some bleach. They come while I’m at work and I try to never come home while they are there because I don’t want to break their spell. I do without a few other things so I can ensure that I will always be able to pay them. But even with all of their loveliness, there are still areas of my house that harbor dirt. My horse dog sheds profusely and no matter how much you sweep, vacuum, or dust, his hair will find a way to remain stuck to a curtain or pillow somewhere.

I love to cook but the idea of picture perfect meals is simply not a reality. I’m working hard to be more prepared for meals and evening time in general (See some tips here.) but it doesn’t always look the way I want it to. Even on the weeks when my meals are planned, prepped, and ready to go, someone in my family decides that they don’t have a taste for cauliflower or beans or whatever my delectable side is, and my meal is no longer a success. Sometimes homework is extra trying and math spills all over the table while we down our pork chops. Every now and again the husband gets tied up in a last minute meeting at work and the kids and I are so ravished that we eat without him. Dinner time is not always like the cover of a magazine.

What I am learning, however, is that making a house a home is about creating a space where
everyone can be authentic. It’s about allowing time for peace to settle. It’s making space for grace to flood into all the crevices so that love can bloom out of the hard places. It looks like a pretty flower that pops up in the middle of a sidewalk. It doesn’t happen with magic. It happens when a seed is planted. I haven’t mastered it yet but I’ve seen glimpses of it and I know that the beauty can be so grand that I want to keep at it. I want to be a blessing to my family in the time I have them. I want to keep tossing seeds of hope all over the place and see where the beauty pops up. I may never be a Pinterest worthy homemaker but I want to be a one who makes sure the love of Jesus is evident in her home.

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