I would like to invite you over to my house.

The dining room table will be full of papers and Lego, a few empty cups and an assortment of books.

The throw pillows are more likely to be on the floor than the couch.

I promise that there will be dishes in the sink and on the counter.

Beds will not be made.

Backpacks will be piled at the door, and, if it is a good day, shoes will be beside them. Shoes may also be in the middle of the living room, or half way under the couch.

Our house is a constant work in progress, with at least ten noticeable house projects vying for attention at all times.

You are welcome at any time.

I will clear off a space for you to sit, but I will not apologize for the mess.

The mess is my offering of imperfection.

This mess is my gift to you.

I do not have it all together, and I don’t need you to, either.

In fact, if I’m really lucky, maybe you will offer me your own mess in return.

That would be the start of something beautiful.