I’m reading Ephesians. It’s so good, I think. I’m not entirely sure. I haven’t had time to read it, but it feels important. In the margins is a quote from Blaise Pascal. He says there is an empty space in the human heart that only God can fill. That is so true. I agree. I underline.

Empty space reminds me of Marie Kondo. She’s so good, you know. I wish I could hire her to declutter this place. Come excavate the mountainous terrain of my home, ranges of musty laundry and sticky dishes, valleys of my children’s outgrown toys, and plains of misplaced homework.

I have a nice porcelain tea set with little red Asian letters I bet she would like. We would make time for tea.

Maybe Paschal was so busy filling his heart with God, he didn’t realize the happiness in making room for nothing at all. I write next to the quote, “Let’s ask Mrs. Pascal.” I laugh and close my Bible. I’m the philosopher standing at the intersection of the divine and domestic order.

Framed on the wall beside me, stilled only in this moment, are my three children, presently at soccer practice—one on the spectrum, one who has inherited my anxiety issues, and one who is so peaceful that he’s failing his classes. All of them were stuffed into the openness of my twenties by a husband who wanted it and a family who expected it. The Pascal types have time to worry about their uncomfortable emptiness. Mrs. Pascal and I aren’t so lost in the open spaces. We claim our emptiness over whatever Pascal husbands would stuff into us.

I think Marie Kondo would agree. She’s so good.