If it Weren't for the Kitchen Sink

I owe a debt to the kitchen sink.

At the kitchen sink I’ve washed away sadness or anger while clanging dishes to the tune of my misery.

At the kitchen sink I learned that an empty clean sink goes hand in hand with an organized day.

At the kitchen sink I taught little hands to do their first chores and start learning responsibility.

At the kitchen sink I’ve counted blessings, numbering more than I ever dreamed or deserved.

At the kitchen sink our marriage has been preserved for forty years.

Not because sex begins in the kitchen, although that was one of the greatest marriage books of the 90’s. Our kitchen sink became a symbol for calling a timeout on the game of marriage to remind us that we were on the same team.

It all began somewhere in the first few months of our marriage. I was 18. He was 20. Two immature kids trying to be adults. We were mad at each other about something. We sulked around our tiny home, holding out for who would go first to make amends. And then it happened. My young groom turned around at the kitchen sink, held out his arms, and said “Come here.” He hugged me without words for a long time.

We nicknamed this gesture “Sink Time” and repeated it often. Over the years, either one of us would call out “Sink Time” anytime we felt like we needed a pause. Maybe it was another disagreement. But often it was just hitting the pause button on busy-ness. Or daily stress. Or the blues. Or the million other negative emotions that can overtake our day. In this little ritual, the other person must respond, hug, love, regardless of feelings. “Sink Time” became a metaphor for living in the moment, for claiming that no problem was bigger than us, and for slowing our spinning treadmill down.

The nugget here is not the magic of our sink nor the wisdom of our marital advice. Because Journey was right, God knows we’ve had our share of saving grace. We know it is His grace alone that has preserved our marriage. The nugget is about hitting the pause button on life. Pausing to re-orient. Pausing to regain perspective. Pausing to remember. Pausing to hope. Pausing with self-compassion. I am grateful for the discovery of pausing at the sink.

There’s one thing even better than pausing life.  It’s pausing with Him. Jesus invited his disciples to pause with Him.

                Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly. [Matt 11:28-30, MSG]

I believe the spiritual symbolism of the kitchen sink timeout is an even greater discovery.  The best way to live with Jesus is to start every day with a long pause with Him. Put Him first and the rest will follow more easily. On your cluttered days when He seems distant, and your emotions are reeling, pause at your spiritual kitchen sink. Let Him wrap his arms around you and teach you the rhythms of His grace.

Feeling Like Home

Walking into our house one Sunday after church, I smelled the roast cooking in the oven, and thought to myself “ah, nothing like coming home!” As lightbulb moments go, it was a bright illumination over a simple thing. Our house – our first one to own – had become home.

When I was growing up, we moved several times. I remember the feeling of walking through the vacant rooms as boxes began to line the walls. It felt empty and unfamiliar. As our things got unpacked and put into place, at some point, someone would say “It’s starting to feel like home now.”

As my own little family grew, we turned houses into homes each time we moved too. I began to realize that what made it home were the feelings that home prompted, which boiled down to these three for me.

Safety – Home was always a safe place for me. Whether running in from the storm or a chasing dog or a brain breaking day at work, home was my safe shelter. My heart breaks for people who cannot associate home with safety.

Familiarity – Home gives me that familiar feeling. Home is set up in a way that supports our lives. It has beauty, but is functional and livable. It’s orderly, because order gives me a feeling of calm. It only takes a few things to give me this basic familiarity. When I traveled on frequent business, I had a routine for unpacking and setting up my hotel room to make it home for the week. I have also created the familiarity of home in our tiny motorhome with much less stuff.

Comfort – Home brings me comfort. My comfort begins with the thermostat set on the ‘right’ temperature. Sitting down in my recliner with my morning dark roast coffee starts my day in comfort.  My favorite music playing in the kitchen oozes comfort. The smell of a candle stacks up more in the comfort column. Ending the day in comfort, I curl up on a good mattress with my neck supported by an ergonomic pillow and clutching my little hug pillow.

I love the sense of home with its safety, familiarity and comfort. Yet my spirit yearns for another home. The one I will move to last. Jesus talked about it.

           

            There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am. [John 14:2-3]

I know my home here doesn’t compare to the safety, familiarity, and comfort that I will experience in my heavenly Father’s home. The safety record will be perfect. No more meanness or disasters on the nightly news. The familiarity will be immediate. Not because I’ve seen heaven before. But because His Spirit that lives in me now will permeate every corner. The comfort will be incomparable to anything we know here. No more pain or sorrow. And if we have coffee and pillows in heaven, I’m sure they will have 5-star reviews. I know it will feel like home!