I’ve been cleaning house today. I’ll be honest with you, nothing makes me hate myself more than cleaning house. I’m no housekeeper, not by any stretch of the imagination, and on those occasions I do clean and thus come face to face (sometimes literally) with the dirt and grime I’ve allowed to build up, well, it makes me despise myself (more so than usual, that is).
Today is no different. As I’ve sped through the house in a mad frenzy of vacuuming, dusting, and squirting cleaner on the bathroom surfaces, I’ve battled the same old frustration and self degradation. You would think that finally doing something about it (already), thus gaining some sort of victory over the mess and the clutter, however short lived, would make me feel better. It doesn’t. I know even as I wipe and scrub that I’ve by no means tackled the real issue.
What, exactly, is the real issue, I’m not real sure. Pick one or more of the following: Lack of organization. Procrastination. No discipline. Distractions (like blogging, for instance, ahem). Or maybe clean house nirvana is only a useless striving after the wind; I mean, is my worth as a woman and follower of Christ really measured by dusting my baseboards weekly? There is a fine line between being a good and careful steward of my home–of serving the Lord by being busy at home–and making everyone miserable by pursuing some impossibly high OCD type standard.
Not that I’m in any danger of pursuing some impossibly high OCD type standard. I’m speaking theoretically here, of course.
Please don’t get the wrong impression. Our home is not unsanitary. It is more cluttered than it is filthy (baseboards not included). And while I struggle with finding the proper balance (and corresponding discipline and organization), I remain grateful, glad for a home, my home, as dirty and disheveled as it may be.
And that’s the point of this long rambling, slightly self indulgent post. Today I clean house and though I am tempted to indulge in self indictment I will instead be thankful. I will thank God for His gracious provision in giving me a home to clean and a family to care for and serve by washing their clothes and cooking their supper and washing their dishes and, yes, cleaning their bathrooms. Our mess is a holy mess because it is evidence of the Lord’s blessing to me: five people I love more than any others and whose care has been entrusted to me, however imperfectly I may do so.
I am thankful for my home and the privilege to clean it.