My kitchen is the heart of my home. It’s where my little family of four sits down to every meal, it’s where we do homework, it’s where I edit photography or write. It’s where we craft, paint, and dance. It’s where my husband plays worship music and sings his heart out while we stand side by side doing dishes.
My kitchen is truly my favorite space in my home.
I almost missed it’s beauty, I almost missed the memories to be made in here.
I almost missed out because I thought it was less than, I almost missed out because I was stuck in the comparison rut.
Don’t let the photo fool you, our kitchen is not big and we only have room to serve a dinner comfortably for our family of four.
We do not have a dining room to invite family over for holidays, no space to dine with guests, we don’t have enough room to host birthday parties, so for a time I felt lacking.
I felt like my home was less than because some of my friends have big beautiful dining rooms with wainscoting, chandeliers, and dining options to hold dinner parties, birthdays, and family gatherings.
I thought I was missing out on making memories because we were missing a certain space.
Sounds silly, right?
What about missing out on running through the sprinklers with your kids because you don’t want the neighbors to see you in your swim suit?
What about missing out on movies and picnics with friends because you think your children are feral cats compared to theirs?
What about forgetting the glory in being debt free in your older model sedan while you longingly look across the street at the neighbor’s shiny new minivan they just signed up for six years of debt to drive?
What about missing the beauty of your back yard vacation while you longingly look at Disney trips on social media?
Still sound silly? Or does it sound like you?
How often do we think we are missing out on something great, something better, because we don’t have what “she” has?
How often do we feel less than because of the comparison WE CREATE?
How often do we believe someone else’s “whatever” is better than ours?
Why is it better?
Who is the judge of what is superior?
It’s not about not having a dining room, it’s not about not having anything in particular, it’s about forgetting to be content with what is right in front of you, it’s missing out on moments and memories because you’re stuck in the cycle of not good enough. The thing about that tricky cycle is until you find contentment you will always have eyes for something more, once you achieve it, too soon will you be comparing to the next level up, and over and over, round and round you go always seeking but never satisfying.
Whatever your view is in front of you, lock your eyes on it, don’t look side to side over the fence, enjoy exactly what you have.
Thank God for exactly what you have.
Find contentment in what’s around you.
Have the party, invite the guests, host a holiday meal, pull up a chair, squeeze in elbow to elbow, enjoy your life…whatever your view looks like.