The Office

I had only two hopes for our future “forever home,” a master bathroom and some space, no matter how small, that could be toy-free. I imagined extravagant bookshelves, a beautiful desk, a comfy armchair. Maybe there would be a pipe, perhaps a collection of bourbons that I would sip as I enjoyed the quiet with my deep thoughts. Like it or not, given interest rates, I’m pretty sure our current house will be the forever home, and thankfully, I like it. It has that space. The bookshelves are from Target. I gagged the first time I attempted a pipe, and honestly, I don’t like bourbon or my thoughts that much to spend a lot of time with them. Nor do I seem to be able to keep the toys out. However, for my birthday one year, I splurged on the desk of my dreams.

Once my desk arrived, I was riddled with anxiety about which of my children was going to mess up this treasure. It was as if a sixth sense developed. If they even got close to it, I would remind them to be careful. When the younger ones thought it might be fun to spin around on my chair, I would point to the favorite child (the desk) and ask them to imagine what might happen if they nicked it. God help us if a crayon was anywhere in the vicinity.

Then it happened. One day, I came into the house, carrying some flipchart papers, fresh with the ideas of Church leaders written on them, ready to sit down at my flawless desk and summarize the thoughts. The room was full of stuffed animals clearly engaged in some pretend classroom. I put my papers down and called the children in to remind them of the rules of my space. After I helped them clean up and we ate dinner, I came back to my task. I picked up the papers to find a large, dark green marker stain on the beautiful wood of my perfect desk. Somehow, the sharpie from my flipchart had bled into the wood.

Countless YouTube videos later, I had removed some of the stain but it’s still there to this day, staring at me, haunting me. Not only did my fear come to fruition, but I was the bearer of this future. As I continued to scrub, I thought about how many other times in life and leadership I fixate in anticipation of how others might disappoint me or drop the ball and lose sight of my role in damaging the relationship or the project. How often am I trying to overly preserve or protect something that’s meant to be experienced, broken-in with life, memories, and lessons? In our sacred space with the Lord, how quickly are we discouraged when we sin and think that stain means we’re ruined forever?

I tend to keep my bills on top of the sharpie mark, but interestingly, I’ve enjoyed the space a lot more ever since I made the mistake. The prospect of making more of them isn’t so scary now, and I even allow homework to be done every once in a while, (provided there are no markers). As we begin this new week, let’s make sure we are experiencing the gift of life that we’ve been given, not just trying to preserve it.