A Labor of Love, not Precision

It is time for my kids to graduate from their toddler beds and move on up in the “big kid bed” world to twin beds.  This requires some rearranging in the house, made more interesting because they share a room with limited space.  Not to worry, Pinterest to the rescue!  I found a fantastic set of plans to make twin beds with drawers underneath!


But…it’s a REALLY big project.  So, imagine my joy when I found someone on Craigslist getting rid of their half-finished version of a similar project!



And now, I’m working on finishing those two beds for my kiddos.

It turns out, “just” assembling and installing the drawers, is still a BIG project.

This furniture isn’t from IKEA, doesn’t include instructions, and is far from regular in each and all of its measurements.

In my frustration the other night, as I worked on another of the individual and unique pieces of art that the under-bed drawers are, it occurred to me that this project is a labor of love, not of precision.



We could have shopped for and purchased furniture that fit our needs, maybe not our budget, but our kids’ sleeping and storage needs. But truthfully, not only do I want them to have somewhere comfortable to sleep and somewhere to keep their clothes off the floor, I wanted a project.  I wanted to create something personal for them.  I wanted to love them with their new beds that Mommy made just for them.


And being the churchy-type that I am, this reminded me of the work we do together in the church.  It is a labor of love, and is almost cheapest tadalafil online uk never precise.

Loving one another is dusty, messy, and hard.  It sometimes causes us bruises and aching backs.  We often lose sleep over it and wonder how we could have done it better.  And the next time we get a chance to love, to really love, it almost never looks exactly like the last time.  Each act of love is an individual and unique piece of artwork.


A couple of my new drawers slide really really nicely in their cabinets.  It is satisfying to pull them out, feel them stop at the end of the drawer slides, and then smoothly slide right back into place, flush with the front of the cabinet. Another of my new drawers, works well, but has a little hiccup in its slide.  I’ve tried my best to diagnose and remedy it.  But the drawer works just fine, so I’m going to move on and find a way to be ok with the lovely, less than precise, hiccuppy drawer in the middle.  And every time I use that drawer, I’m going to be reminded to always risk loving fully, even when I’m afraid of hiccups along the way.  The drawer still works beautifully. It holds clothes, gives kiddos a sense of personal space and accomplishment, and most of all, holds their mother’s love.


May you love and be loved fully, not precisely, today and every day!


Rev. Brigit F. Stevens
Associate Conference Minister

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