Sometimes it seems as if my life consists of fixing cracks in plaster. The tedious process of minutely scrutinizing each section of wall to find each hairline fracture takes hours and hours. Then comes the cleaning out the crack, filling it with compound, adding a second coat on repeat. Over and over, wall on wall, to repair our house into something beautiful.

Yes, I appreciate the end result, but still, in the midst of it I can lose sight of that future beauty especially if I have a section of wall I have already worked on crack again. Frustration is easy, the question of “is it worth it” quick to pop into my mind.

The other day, in the midst of fixing yet another crack, I had this thought. Are we not like these crumbly old plaster walls? And God in his love comes to mend us. To clean out the old gunky cracks in our lives, to bring new life to old walls. But he never tires of fixing our cracks. Though we re-crack a thousand times or seem to be more cracks than solid plaster. He is there. Meticulously finding each crack. Working diligently and persistently and loving it. He never loses sight of that final picture, of what we will be. He never tires or questions “is it worth it.”

That image brought a sweetness and joy to my monotonous work. And I know that next time I pick up my putty knife, to go fix another crack, I’ll think of the one who labors on the cracks in my life.