Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean,
but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox.
—Proverbs 14:4

There’s a certain chaos that goes along with playing board games.

For starters, we all come to board games with our specific perceptions about how to start the game. For example, my oldest dumps the game pieces out on whatever surface—there’s always a possibility we don’t start with all of the pieces if he’s at the helm. My youngest subscribes to this methodology as well. Then there’s my precise game surgeon. She could spend 20 minutes on her own arranging each individual piece in its exact, specific, ordained spot on the game board. And then doesn’t want us to touch it.

Of course, there’s everything else in between. Or maybe another extreme.

As a confession, I’m the one who pulls out the instructions.
As the beholder of the instructions, I set up the game as it is meant.

Is it a flaw? Probably. But as the keeper of calendars and schedules in my home, it only makes sense.

But keeping our game neat and tidy is a quick way to have my family turn from me.

***

I desperately want a kitschy Bible verse sign that prominently shows Proverbs 14:4. Seeing the word “oxen” in script would make me giggle every time.

And yet, I’ve accepted the hard truth that I won’t pick it up at Hobby Lobby—because who wants to admit that fruit comes from smelly, hard work? I mean, I know what the verse is insinuating. Mangers with no oxen mean no poop. No poop means no smell. No smell means clean. Cleanliness is close to godliness! Or is it?

Or is it?

For so long, I’ve coopted the truth that cleanliness, in all its forms, meant delight. But that’s not wisdom.

Wisdom comes from seeing what happens when the ox does, in fact, live in the manger. It eats and probably leaves stray hay from its breakfast cereal. Or dirty hoof prints all over the floor.

Or worse—it never potty trains.

The ox also dumps all of the board game pieces out. The ox never reads the instructions.

But the fruit grows in abundance.

***

Board game nights take effort on my behalf. The truth is that game night is refining and messy work for me. My confession reveals an ugly part of my character where I covet an ideal fantasy that bears no fruit.

And it only feels right for that moment.

That is, until I taste the fruit.

Fruit in the form of giggles, jokes, and sweet-tear-filled memories. The fruit’s abundance inscribes those words on my heart—I couldn’t have done it without the dirty manger. I guess I don’t need the kitschy sign from Hobby Lobby after all.

This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Words to Carry.”