Beautiful messes

Many of us have been called labels instead of names.

Self-centered.

Narcissist.

Radical.

Socialist.

Sinner.

Dumb ass.

Stupid.

Selfish.

Crazy.

We carry these labels, shouldering them alongside the weight of all that we are, all that we need to do, all that we have to be. Sometimes, we carry so much weight and have so many responsibilities that things get dropped. Our lives become messes.

Now that my other half and I have a kitchen table, it is often covered in things that represent this mess of life. My work backpack lives on one of the oft-unused chairs. Items from my pockets that I need daily sit in the carved turtle bowl, a gift from one of my parents’ travels. There are random other things also on the table; receipts from purchases, bills, lunch boxes or their contents, empty pop cans that need to be recycled, dirty dishes, my unicorn friends and random small toys, boxes that need to be flattened for the recycle bin, and refuse that just hasn’t made its way where it needs to go. Occasionally, one of more cats can also be found sitting upon the table, as it sits against a window that appeals to the feline nature.

I often try to clean off this table, putting things where they belong instead of in a mess piled high. I wipe the crumbs and cat paws away and organize the things that often to remain, hoping to make sense. But more often than not, it too remains a mess, becoming so after a long day of work stretches into a long week or month. It’s a reminder that the messes of life will always be there. There is stuff dropped on the table that gets dealt with right away, while other messes take some time. There is stuff that remains permanently adhered to the surface, stubborn and persistent.

But the table also represents more than just the messes that remain on it. It represents family, whether of blood or of choice. It is where meals and conversations happen, memories are made, things get done. Amidst the chaos and clutter are lives well lived, even if it seems there is nothing but endless trials or something pressing that needs to be dealt with. There is hope and peace at the table, joy and love. And while there is always some sort of mess, it means that the story we each are writing is continuing to be written, line by line and chapter by chapter, labels and all.

The goal isn’t to clear the table. None of us are perfect enough to have that ever done. The goal is to keep coming back to the table and be a part of the beautiful mess, laying down the weight we carry so that others around the table can share in it.

That’s the beauty of the mess.

“We ain’t perfect, no / We ain’t even close / We got holes in our hearts / We got scars we don’t show / But all that baggage we / Keep on dragging around / Anytime we start laying it down.”

~ Ben Glover, Connie Harrington, Hillary Scott “Beautiful Messes”

Be a beautiful mess, but learn also to lay it down. Let the labels that you carry fall to the table. Find the beauty in the mess that remains and write that into your story. For that is the magic we each find in life.

Stay magical.

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