Why do I have a small house?

Why on earth did I move from a big, four-bedroom-with-a-massive-sleep-out-walk-in-pantry-kitchen-you-could-turn-cartwheels-in house

to a

three-bedroom-but-only-two-with-internal-walls-pint-sized-living-area-with-a-kitchen-that-would-fit-in-a-caravan house?

WITH our fourth baby on the way.

I know the answers to this question, and they are many, but the biggest one is this:

I asked God to make me a better housekeeper.

I did it, nobody else, it wasn't imposed on me, I voluntarily prayed that God would teach me to keep house better. You think I would have learned, the last time I asked God to teach me to have a quiet voice with the kids, I woke up with laryngitis! True story, you gotta love an All Powerful Deity with a quirky sense of humor!

So He bought me here, where I HAVE to deal with the mess because I can't get away from it! Where I HAVE to put all my lovely homemaking theories into practise CONSISTENTLY. And, kicking and screaming, wailing and gnashing my teeth, I have been slowly getting the hang of it. I am not saying I HAVE the hang of it yet, there are a lifetime of bad habits and my inner-toddler that screams "I DON'T WANNA" every time I go to clean, but I am GETTING the hang of it.

In spite of me, He answers my prayers.

What a good and merciful God He is, praise Him!

Praise Him in the midst of nappies and dust, Praise Him when the crawler eats something she shouldn't, Praise Him when I have to don protective clothing before entering the kitchen, Praise Him when visitors arrive and it looks like a bomb has exploded around me while I am making Googly Alien Eyes in the middle of the loungeroom with the kids.

Praise Him, because He is Changing Me.

Little by little, every day, little by little in every way, Jesus is Changing Me.