Deep Cleaning

So, I got a new vacuum (well, actually it was a hand-me-down from my sister-in-law BUT, it is new to me) … one of those Rainbow deals… you know, the kind filled with water and enough sucking power to inhale a small animal? …Well, that might be a slight exaggeration but it definitely has enough to suction to get rid of some serious set-in carpet funk. In fact, I was incredibly shocked and a little bit disgusted when I vacuumed the upstairs and saw the amount of goo and gloppy gunk floating in the water chamber. After seeing that filth, I knew I was not going to sleep well until I degunked the rest of the house.

I gathered my strength, rolled up my sleeves and worked my way from room to room, sucking up grime and dragging my water hauling R2D2 friend behind me (working up quite a serious glisten, I might add). Of course, in true vacuumusing fashion, my mind began to wander. I began to ponder the debris that was hidden deep in my seemingly clean carpet. I began to think about the (good grief) pain in the rear this whole deep cleaning process really was. Then, I started thinking about my own life and the dirty mess that has built up over the years, hidden beneath the surface of a fairly fuzz-free exterior. I thought of the extraordinary efforts I’d exerted in the past trying to sweep away all that accumulated dirt in order to make my life “right”.

Still partially reeling from a powerful study of John in this week’s Bible study, my mind immediately turned to verses in John and Ephesians that talk about the futileness of human effort in the battle of dirty build-up in our lives. I am aware that I could work diligently every hour of every day to correct past wrongs, clean up every mess, follow every rule and observe every tradition; still it would never be enough. Ephesians 2:8-9 says that salvation is a gift from God and is not the result of human works. The good news is that the extraordinary effort has already taken place. The deep cleansing has been done for me. I simply had to accept the offer.

It doesn’t make practical sense. It doesn’t make logical sense. I suppose it won’t really make any sense at all until I have the opportunity to talk to the creator Himself when I reach my final heavenly destination but I do know this: Christ, through His infinite love and compassion, exerted all of the effort needed to wash the gunk from my life and He continues to give my spirit a deep cleaning. There is no other effort required of me...no hauling around of special machinery, following detailed instructions and working up a sweat trying to get it right…simply a decision to follow Him and a request for Him to come into my life. He takes care of the rest. Amazing.

Performance Review

While doing my weekly vacuuming, I started thinking about a conversation that I had with one of my very dear friends right after she found out that she’d been laid off from her long-time part time job. She said “I figured, well… If I’m not going to have a job then I am going to darn well have the cleanest house and the cleanest kids around.” She spent the entire weekend scrubbing her house from top to bottom. She quickly realized that this was an impossible feat and really not worth the energy.

Of course, as I recall that conversation I begin to wonder: as a stay at home mom, is my success measured by how clean my house is? Is it measured by how well groomed my kids are? Or how smart they are? Or how many nights per week we eat a home-cooked meal and how many new recipes I can master?

For someone who has had some sort of job from the age of 14, it is a disconcerting position to be in. So many (probably too many) times in my life, i have let my job define me. Among other things; I was a Gap girl, a make-up artist or a PR executive. Each of these positions had a definite set of job expectations, goals and semi-specific work hours. I could measure my performance objectively against what was expected from my position.

Now as a stay at home mom, the job qualifications and work expectations are bit more cloudy…less defined, more subjective...actually, there are none. To my knowledge no one has come up with a defined set of job expectations for a stay-at-home mom. There is no employee handbook, no chart of performance check-points and productivity goals.

So, who does my performance review? My kids? No, although they may want to sometimes. My husband? Um, no. My friends? Eh, not really. So, that leaves me. I suppose I am my own supervisor. I do my own performance reviews…daily, hourly, sometimes minute by minute.

And, what kind of supervisor am I? Am I an empathetic, compassionate boss who understands that life doesn’t always go as planned and that outside circumstances affect work performance? Well…unfortunately no. I believe that I am actually the type of boss that we all dread: nit-picky, overly critical and micro-managing…stifling any spark of creativity and spontaneity. Now that’s a eye-opening realization. I think it’s time to go to the big boss for some support.

Eating Habits

This thought has crossed my mind many times while struggling to navigate the peculiar world of pre-school eating habits: Why do I care so much about what she eats? I pondered this question as I was vacuuming left-over shredded cheese from lunch that was now crusted on the kitchen floor. I mean, my oldest survived for years almost wholly on a diet of bagel bites and tv dinners. By all indications, she seems to be perfectly healthy.

Then again, does it really make sense to say to a three year old “eat all of your grilled cheese and then you can have a couple of French fries” ...Yes, please, eat your bleached flour, trans-fat laden bread filled with processed cheese product that melts well. Then you can eat your simple starch soaked in grease. Oh, it hurts my head.

Why does it have to be so difficult? Before my youngest was born, I was mildly concerned with what ingredients went into the foods that my family ate. After she was born, I became obsessed...probably a little too obsessed. I meticulously check food labels at the grocery store. I cringe at the thought of my sweet little angel drinking an icee...high fructose corn syrup AND food dyes...why, it’s virtually liquid poison! (hence, the little too obsessed comment from earlier) and I am still trying to figure out how to use whole wheat flour in baking without my goodies tasting like sand.

Every week there is new information about foods that are good for you and foods that will kill you...sometimes the same foods in conflicting accounts. That, along with constant comments about our healthy food tasting like cardboard, is almost enough to make me throw up my hands and yell “Forget it! Eat whatever you want!”... almost. I am fully aware that all of this helpful, healthful knowledge has taken some of the fun out of eating and definitely made my trips to the grocery store less exciting but, what do I do? Does this diminish my fixation on feeding my family healthy food? No...but, we might live on the edge and get an icee every once in a while.

Below the Surface

Early this morning, in the still fog between sleep and waking, my mind was flooded with the following thoughts: There are many people who, I believe, are content to bob along on the surface of life…cruising around, riding the waves, checking out the sights, tying up and partying with other boats, interacting with all of the other surface floaters. This experience, I’m sure, is a great ride but I fear these people miss out on the wonders and beauty hidden in the depths of the water.

As I was vacuuming my downstairs later this morning, I pondered these early morning revelations. I began to think about approaching life from the flip side, as a deep sea scuba diver. These are the treasure hunters. They explore the depths of the water, turning over rocks, uncovering priceless trinkets, hidden in the dirt for years. This kind of expedition is too intimidating and exhausting for some. For others, it is exhilarating and fulfilling.

I guess for those individuals, like myself, who tend to spend most of their time in scuba gear, it is important to remember that we can only stay under water as long as our oxygen tanks will allow. We have to train ourselves to recognize the warning signs of oxygen depletion…the disorientation, the blurred vision. We have to come to the surface in order to fill our lungs with life-giving , head-clearing air. It is only at the surface that we can refill our tanks in preparation for our next diving venture...and while we are there, we might as well join in the party.

Loving the Spots

I was vacuuming up crushed cereal in the living room when I noticed that the carpet was riddled with little (and some not so little) spots. My first thought was, "What kind of chinese torture monger covers an entire house in cream carpet?!" Then as I was running the vacuum over the same black spot for about the hundredth time, my frustration subsided and turned to loving acceptance. I figured,"oh well...at least you can tell our house is lived in." We would never survive in one of those "museum" houses where everything is spotless and in perfect order. You know the type of house where you are afraid to sit on the couch because you might squash one of the perfectly placed "throw" pillows? Yea, that's not our house...and that's OK with me.

As much as I try to contain messy food and drinks to the kitchen, it doesn't always happen...truth be told, it rarely happens. I mean, really, what fun is a popscicle if you have to stand still in the middle of the kitchen to eat it? Or, coffee? I carry it all over the house with me...all morning long...and yes, sometimes it gets kicked over, dropped, sloshed, dribbled...performing all sorts of exciting spillage routines.

So, thankfully, my active family will continue to LIVE in our house...and maybe, one day I'll attack the "well-loved" areas with a little Resolve...but not today.

vacuumusing

I love to vacuum. It not only fulfills my need for a sense of accomplishment but it also satifisfies the slightly OCD side of my personality. I mean, think about it...we can go into a room with a dirt-speckled floor, push a medium weight machine on wheels around the room for a few minutes (maybe stopping once or twice to move furniture, pick up toys, etc), and voila!...the dirt-speckled floor is clean, mission accomplished. You see: maximum accomplishment, minimal effort.

Now, if you are like me, because this task requires such minimal effort and requires almost no brain activity, I often find my mind wandering...pondering deep thoughts that otherwise would remain floating out there somewhere in the universe. Maybe the great leaders of our world could solve all of the problems that plague this wonderful planet of ours...if they just did more vacuuming. Hmmm, just a thought.