It is such a blessing to be able to “keep house.”

This statement has become such a stark reality to me as of recent.  There are many theological reasons to prove this to my mind, such as the fact that I cannot lay claim to our little apartment myself–it is the Lord’s; He has blessed us beyond imagination with a place for hubby and I to begin our marriage.  We will always remember this apartment as our first home.  He has blessed us with furnishings to make the place comfortable, and He has even so much as given me an inclination and ability to decorate to make it homey…  He has given me all these blessings, and it is my privilege that He allows me to be the one to care for and keep this house.

There’s also the consideration that He is a God of order, and it is both my joy and my duty to reflect Him in the order that is displayed in my home.

Et cetera…  Yes, yes – my mind is convinced, but what about my heart?  My actions?  In all earnestness, my heart does not always find delight in the nuances of housework (does anyone?).  But most recently, after being forbidden (by hubby) because of restrictions (due to my back) from doing almost all the housework, for the few moments I am able to do something little (reorganize a set of drawers, file or purge papers and junk), I have found so much joy in it.

While hubby and I pray for my regained health when I may resume more regular housework duties, I do praise Him for the little He has granted that I’m able to do.  (The question is: will I remember this when I have young children “under foot” and an entire house to keep?  Good question…)

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