Stains

Valentine’s Day marks our third anniversary in our house. Since we moved into our house when it was brand new, it is technically still young, but if you were to visit, you’d probably think it’s much older than it is. Why? Children. Babies and their reflux issues.  Kids and their sippee cups that aren’t supposed to leak. Toddlers and their underdeveloped motor skills. Kids and their….well, you get the picture. I have been bugging my extremely frugal husband for the past few months about getting our carpets steamed cleaned. It doesn’t matter how many times I vacuum the carpet or scrub the stains with what is supposed to be miracle stain remover, the carpet still looks gross. For a neat freak like me, that’s just not acceptable.

The other night as I was trying to convince my husband to fork out the money for the steam cleaning, I started pointing out all the stains. As I pointed out each stain, I would tell the story behind its origin. The spot near the window is where one-year-old Gretchen threw up one afternoon and just kept playing. The spot near the hallway is where eighteen-month-old Griffin knocked over a cup of his dad’s coffee. All the little spots in front of the couch are where they spit up after almost every bottle for their first year.

Telling these stories made each of those moments rush back into my memory. Although at the time none of those moments seemed very pleasant, they are now a part of our family’s history. Each moment a treasured memory that stirs up some emotion – pride that Gretchen is a tough little cookie who will never let little things like sickness come between her and whatever she finds important at the time – frustration that Javin would leave a hot cup of coffee in a toddler’s reach but relief and gratitude that Griffin didn’t get hurt – pity that my babies could barely keep down their milk.

While I am still ashamed for visitors to see these gross spots on my carpet, I know they are simply a part of my family….a part of what makes us who we are and a reminder of how far we have come.

Each of us has spots in our individual lives that we would like to keep others from seeing. However, it’s the lessons we learn from the process of getting those stains that helps us realize who we want to become or what we want to avoid becoming. If we pretend those spots aren’t there, we may succeed at making ourselves more presentable, but we may also risk forgetting what we learned in the first place. I’m not saying we should expose our vulnerabilities to the whole world, but if we are able to let those closest to us know about our nasty stains, they can offer the support and encouragement we need to keep us from making even more messes.