Moth and Rust

Senioritis has set in. 

I find myself wondering, "How important really is it to dust anymore? I mean we'll be out of here in just a few weeks."

And then my OCD kicks in and I dust anyway. 

But even with my neat freak nature, I'm strangely ok with the pile full of card board boxes, or the bare walls where pictures have been taken down. 

I spend a lot of time dreaming of where I will hang those pictures on our new walls. 

I spend time thinking about furniture placement, room layouts, and throw pillow covers. 

I scour Amazon for organizational products, guest bedding, and light fixtures. 

I research lawn tractors, cellular blinds, and granite sealers. 

I'm on Pinterest looking at shiplap and mudroom bench plans. 

And as much as I want to think I know what I'm doing with interior design I'm sure Joanna Gaines would take one look at my attempt and be so shocked she'd never eat another cupcake again.  

But all that's to say is, this house is where moth and rust destroy. Sure it is a blessing, beyond what I could have asked for or imagined. 

But it is not an idol. It won't fix anything, solve any problems, add eternal value, or make us content. 

This house is a gift, it's a blessed place to lay our heads, nourish our bodies, and make memories. 

But unless our true contentment is found in Christ no new house, bedspreads, throw pillows, paint colors, or light fixture will ever find us peace. 

The walls and floors may be filled with the best most perfect shiplap and marble but unless our hearts stay filled with seeking Him first it is the biggest waste of time and resources. 

There's nothing wrong with enjoying picking out curtains and closet organizers, in fact to an extent it's practicing good stewardship of what God has given. 

But my pouring so much time into moths and rust needed to hit the breaks. 

So the walls may go paintless, the couches won't match at all, and Joanna Gaines still may give up cupcakes, but we're content. 

We're studying caterpillars, picking wildflower bouquets, and soaking up the sunsets. We're praying over the crew and our neighbors-to-be. We're serving and learning and growing and knowing that no matter where we live, we're already home together and one day eternally with Christ.