My Father's world

In my fantasy world, all our books are arranged uprightly on shelves, organized by Dewey Decimal system, and the kids always put them back properly.


In my fantasy world, my kids always pick up after themselves and appreciate cleanliness and neatness.


In my fantasy world I'm not getting wrinkles.


In my fantasy world I'm wearing a stylish apron and pulling a steaming dinner out of the oven with a smile on my face to greet my husband as he arrives home from work.  The children's faces are scrubbed and the girls have pigtails tied in bows and they greet their father cheerfully and then return to their quiet games in out-of-the-way corners while Jason and I exchange uninterrupted sentences.


In my fantasy world, my flowers grow and my weeds don't.


In my fantasy world, my kids outgrew their asthma by age 2, as hoped.


In my fantasy world, eating cake doesn't affect my body shape.


In my fantasy world, I alway like my kids and they always admire me for consistently guiding them toward what is good for them.


In my fantasy world, something in my house is gorgeously clever and worthy of Pinterest.


In my fantasy world, nothing crunches underfoot when you walk across the dining room.


In my fantasy world, I got that paint color in the bathroom right.


In my fantasy world, I don't need a pill to be normal.


                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


In the real world, my house is disheveled and I sometimes wonder if my kids are descendants of barnyard animals.  They are sinners and so am I, and we each struggle to see the good in anything we don't like.


In the real world, my body is in a slow process of decline and even my children's youthful bodies are flawed.


In the real world, applying all my limited energy and ability to the task still results in dirty faces, crummy floors, good-enough dinners, and unsatisfying bathroom decor.


In the real world, I don't have a naturally buoyant personality.


This is my Father's world.


My Father is pleased to press me into dependence on Him.


My Father is slowing redeeming me, having accomplished my redemption already, and promising to complete it finally.


My Father allows me to feel the brokenness of this cursed earth and this wretched soul until I cry out for salvation.


My Father knows my full satisfaction will be found only in Him.


My Father has given me a loving family, a happy marriage, abundant provision, modern medicine, and His own dear presence to cheer me and whet my appetite for eternal restoration.


My Father highlights His grace against my weakness.


My Father is lovingly prying these idols out of my grubby fists and setting my heart's affections ever more on Himself.

This is my Father's world.
His love has filled my breast,
I am reconciled, I am His child,
My soul has found His rest.

This is my Father's world.
O let me ne'er forget
That tho' the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.

This is my Father's world.
The battle is not done.
Jesus who died shall be satisfied.
And earth and Heaven be one.

-Maltbie D. Babcock, "This Is My Father's World"