If there is one part of my life that consistently reminds me of how totally not perfect I am, it is the unrelenting, ever pressing duties of daily life. I recognize that this is not the way a lot of people feel about their housekeeping. Some people actually enjoy the rhythm of doing these tasks day in and day out. People have written entire books on the spirituality of cleaning the bathroom and dusting the TV. Imagine! I am so not there.
These people report experiencing a profound sense of accomplishment from doing the hard work and having a clean, neat house. Perhaps this could happen. . . in an alternate reality. Cleaning the Gibbons' house is a bit like playing Whack 'a Mole; get one room somewhat under control and the room you worked on for two hours earlier in the day looks just like it did yesterday, a description not fit for a blog entry.
I prefer to reap the benefits of having children who like money in their pockets now and again. And I am not at all against the occasional strike when all else fails. Motherhood has its privileges. Anyway, what kind of mother would not properly teach her son to do his own laundry - even at the tender age of 11? If he can navigate Face Book with such ease, surely he can turn the dial to "start" on the washer and dryer. Someday, some young woman might actually thank me for passing on the art of folding clothes and Swiftering the kitchen floor. He's not half bad.
And then there's my daughter (an older child by far), oh my. I wish I had a dollar for every glass she's broken while unpacking the dishwasher ("I just touched it!"), every garment ruined in the wash ("You can't put a beaded dress in the washer?" which translates on the parental end as: "What are all those little black things the cats are playing with?"), the hand-knit merino wool (did I mentioned, cabled?) sweater I made for myself that was passed on to a four year old child, before I ever wore it, after it emerged from the dryer, so sad.), the dryer door that's no longer attached to the dryer (darn hard to open at this point), the scratches on the kitchen counter (cutting board, huh?), the burn on the tub (you need a plate under incense?), the lazy Suzie under the kitchen cabinet that does not double as a step ladder after all ("What was that crashing noise?"), the laptop that was smashed after being stepped on while cleaning her bedroom floor littered with a month's of dirty clothes ("Oh, that's where that is!"), the TV that fell on its face during an impulsive moment of redecorating (hum, guess that little table wasn't strong enough to hold it), and then there's the decorative gash on the side of my car which occurred on the short drive to the mail box (brake, not gas dear). It's uncanny, really.
Still, if there were some element of appreciation by those who benefit from the hard work of housekeeping, it might be just worth it. But in all honesty, the greatest expressions of appreciation of doing the chores are the resident animals. Chickens are very grateful to have their laying boxes cleaned. I find they actually produce more eggs when there's fresh, clean hay to roost in. And they are calmer and happier after having their digs spruced up a bit. You can't imagine how thrilled the horses are to have a fresh, fluffy layer of sweet pine shavings in their run-in. I can hardly get them to stay out while I'm mucking it out - a few threatening gestures are required; its very hard to shovel when they're in the stall with me. The only ones who actually notice I've changed the bedsheets are the dogs: There's nothing like rubbing all over a fresh comforter, or putting one's head on a freshly plumped pillow. Vacuuming is totally fun according to the retriever who bears his teeth while lunging at the cleaner's head as it moves back and forth, tail wagging furiously the whole while. The cats are not above showing their gratitude as well; a newly swept rug is the perfect spot for curling up for a nap after properly exercising one's claws (on said rug) and coughing up a hairball or two (also on said rug). Ah, its so nice to be appreciated!
A wise, retired colleague once said to me, "House keeping will always be there. It doesn't rate big in the scheme of things at the end of the day. Put your energy into things that matter, and get to rest when you can." He passed on this nugget of wisdom shortly before he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. John has since gone on the better things in a place without housework, I'm sure. But I remember his words with regularity as I go through my life stressing out about all the housework that is always there.
This is not to say that duties of necessity do not have their place, especially those that accomplish far more than a fleeting sense of self-satisfaction. The trick is to be open to unexpected, those times when suddenly God shows up and the conversation between the worker and the work is made all the broader, all the richer. For many, many people, house keeping is in this category - so while it is not my cup of tea, I do not suggest it is of no value or consequence. The deeper truth is that chores, the one's we like and the ones we dislike, the ones who are genuinely appreciated, and even those that seem to have no bearing on any one's immediate life, offer random opportunities to connect us to a world of purpose and meaning by which there is no other route.
One day as I was mucking stalls during a particularly trying time in my life, I found myself saying aloud, "If you want clean stalls, you have to shovel some s***" Where this came from I could not say. With my face dripping with sweat and tears, I repeated this bizarre mantra, shovel full after shovel full, until outrage was spent and a soothing calm took up its place. There are moments in our lives when clarity and resolve in the midst of turmoil or indecision can only be realized through seemingly unconnected, random duties of necessity, sometime portals of transcendence, our daily chores.
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