We had an oven repairman come check our oven because, among other things, it was 75° off. Now it is 175° off.

I scrubbed, mopped, and vacuumed all the floors in our house, only to find Sprout licking the side of the kitchen trashcan. Twice.

I gave her a bath, dressed her in a brand new dress, and then gave her a teething biscuit. She is now covered in what looks like caked on bread dough from head to toe.

I bought food for a dinner party, forgetting that because of #1, our oven won’t reliably heat above 300°.

I have now been to the grocery store three days in a row.

I finally got the mountain of clean laundry folded and put away in drawers only to notice that the hamper is piled full again.

I looked inside my new cowboy boot to find a pool of spit-up.

Hilarious the repetition, the one step forward three steps back dance of days like this. But I will remind myself that motherhood and the keeping of a home are anything but futile.

We have an oven that (kind of) works. I have a Sprout with a budding sense of humor. I am sure by 2015 there will be ‘smart laundry’ that can wash itself.

And it is in the small spaces, the repetitive tasks, the tone of my voice with the Sprout, the opening of our home to others – that is how I am being called to redeem my part of the world right now. And that is then woven into the bigger Story, which is THE thing that matters.

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