Tonight as I got ready to escape into my RV nest bed, I lit my new pink Guadalupe candle that I bought at the mexican grocery store, I put a fresh new chubby candle into my buddha candle holder and then I glanced down at the counter where both of these things sat and I saw this....
I let out a sigh. Knowing this meant I needed to take a minute or two five and put away the oils that were out of place, to tuck my random makeup bits into the bag that usually holds them and to use my favorite spray to wipe it all down. In a moment of worship, tonight I saw it all with fresh eyes. It was a peek into my last 24 hours, it was a peek into my life. My daily life. The mundane AND the messy. My repeated routines and my sacred self massage. It looked so beautiful that I couldn’t disturb it’s flow. So I left it. All of it.
Who says that an altar has to be perfectly kept and shiny new. I’m quite certain that the first altars were laid on dirt and built of stone and twig with blistered hands and expectant hearts. My worship just doesn’t fit the pretty and the neat guidelines all that often.
Declaring my new love for messy altars. Now I’m keeping an eye out for them every where, on the counters in my RV home but also on the table at a restaurant. I am seeing them in gutters and in photos that my dear friend across the country sends me of her disheveled dresser. I’m loving on them. Now preferring them to the neat and the tidy. Church has always been messy for me. Shouldn’t my altars reflect that too?