When my hubby walked in the house after returning from work, he thanked me for my efforts and attempted to apologize for my having to do all the house-cleaning. I said, "No, I like it! It appeals to my sense of order!"
He proceeded to say I was sick and gave me a kiss as I grinned.
The thing is, when my house is clean, it is spacious. We don't own very much stuff (spring cleaning + preparation for potential move somewhere at some point + pregnancy took care of that this time last year), so when the clutter is organized and the dust is wiped away, what's left is ample room. This is a space that can be breathed in by a harried mom or run in by an exuberant toddler or crashed in by a learning-to-walk baby. I gaze around the room and am grateful for the simplicity I behold.
How does my heart reflect my hearth? What within me could use the loving touch of Eastertide refreshing? How may I live into the simplicity within me that I cherish so much outside of me?