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Prayer in times of cleaning

“What you must do is this: rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing. In everything give thanks. I am not all the way capable of so much, but those are the right instructions.”

-From “Hannah Coulter” by Wendell Berry

Sometimes I approach house cleaning with excitement. The smell of the different cleaning products I’ve come to love (a big draw) . . . the soon-to-be-had satisfaction of sitting in a wonderfully clean and organized space . . .the sense of accomplishment I know that will give my day . . . Frequently when I’m done cleaning the house, I light a candle and just sit in a chair with my hands folded in my lap to soak up the goodness of my surroundings.

I’d also like to mention that our new toilet-cleaning solution smells like a breath mint. The last time I cleaned, as I scrubbed the toilet and the breath-minty scent surrounded me, I, um, well . . . well, I started to salivate. Yes, I wanted to eat the breath mint that my senses were telling me was inside our toilet. I’m starting to get a little worried here. Salivation and toilet-cleaning are two things that just shouldn’t be happening together. Thankfully our off-brand glass cleaner smells like a fresh spray of cat pee, and that just about evens things out.

Nothing like the scent of urine all over your bathroom mirror. But I’m too cheap to throw it away and let it go to waste.

Anyway, even though house cleaning can be a pleasurable experience, I’ve also have the struggle we’ve all had: I approach it with dragging steps, tempted to be resentful against something or someone for this work I have to do.

I’d like to issue a challenge for those of you who, like me, can be disgruntled house cleaners: pray your way through cleaning! There are three prayers that have helped me have a better attitude, and can make cleaning a place of peace for me when I have the discipline to switch my focus:

1. Giving thanks for the object I’m cleaning

As I spray furniture polish on our coffee table, I thank God for giving us a coffee table. I love it! I frequently put my feet up on it, or use it to make my cup of coffee readily available. Then I remember that my Dad made the coffee table and I thank God for my Dad and the fact that we have a beautiful example of his handiwork in our livingroom. As I clean the toilet, I thank God for indoor plumbing! I’m not a fan of outhouses, and I’m glad to be living in a time and place where I can go to the porcelain throne with my needs instead 0f a stinky hole in the ground. As I dust off our photographs, I thank God for the people in them–like these two young lovebirds at about 19 years of age.

As I clean the floor and windowsills, I thank God for our apartment, this structure that keeps us warm and dry in the winter and cool in the summer. I thank God that we have enough money to pay rent every month, and that we can get maintenance done for us with a simple phone call to our landlords.

2. Prayer that I will be a good steward of the things I’m cleaning

God has given us many material blessings that I am so grateful for. He can also take them away, and he will be equally loving and equally in charge of our provision. But while we have these things, I believe we are called to take care of them. God has given me carpets to keep our feet warm in the winter and to make the hardwood floors more cozy, and I want to take good care of those carpets and keep them clean. I believe he takes pleasure in order and beauty–you can see that by his design in nature–and I get to reflect those qualities by making the surroundings in my own home orderly and beautiful.

3. Prayer that I will hold on to these things lightly, and that my treasure will be in heaven

The book of Job is a prime example–God’s name is blessed whether or not he gives us comfortable, plentiful, and beautiful material goods. God could call us to sell all our things and go minister to a leper colony in the mountains somewhere–who knows. OK, maybe that’s unlikely, but we could lose our financial stability and be forced to ‘downgrade’ our lifestyle. He may ask us to increase our tithing, preventing us from buying that new bookcase we were wanting, or to start donating to a homeless shelter even though we just lost our job and simply don’t see how our funds will stretch. I don’t want my heart to cling to these things that we have. I can’t think of them as “mine”–God has chosen to share them with me at this time in our lives, and they are his to take away as well. We may not always be able to afford a nice apartment, or the luxury of using AC whenever we want in the summer. My heart needs to be free, with my hands clinging tightly to Him and not to these objects. Only then can I fully enjoy these things, when I am holding loosely. If not, they are a cage, a burden, and a necessity to me. And when desires become needs (‘I need an espresso machine’ versus ‘I would love to have an espresso machine’), the objects of our desire quickly take God’s place on the throne of our hearts. Ironically–and whether you believe in God or not–you will enjoy your material possessions much more once you let go of them in your heart.

See–I’m even cracking a smile at the stinky glass cleaning solution.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this, whatever your beliefs may be. I know we all come from different backgrounds and are walking different paths, and that’s part of what makes your comments so interesting! Have a great weekend everyone!

Chicago, year #1: our apartment and beyond

Today is September 1st. Exactly 1 year ago today, our moving van was double parked on a one-way street and we were hauling load after load of boxes and furniture through a little courtyard and up a flight and a half of stairs. We had come from 3 years in the small town of Newark, Delaware, and were eager to hit the big city.

We have not been disappointed . . . but it didn’t start that way: my first glimpse of the apartment was dismal. We had caught our complex in the middle of a management change, so there were no on-site landlords. Thus, our apartment had not been cleaned. From the filthy toilet and bathtub to the grease-covered stove and oven to the dirt-encrusted window sills and sticky hardwood floor with mysterious stains and spots, it was all looking very depressing. To flesh things out (sorry, gentlemen please avert your ears) let’s just say it was also ‘that time of the month,’ which made the disgusting toilet seat staring me in the face, soiled and stained by the previous resident, an even uglier prospect. It’s just not what a girl needs at that time in her life. After hearing my husband’s enthusiasm for the place, seeing it in person for the first time brought me to tears. I held them back as I lugged the boxes up the flight-and-a-half of stairs. My husband could tell something was wrong, but I knew that if I spoke I would completely fall apart, so I held my tongue and prayed that the waves of disappointment and frustration would stop soon, or at least become more bearable.

Thank God I held my tongue! The waves passed as we continued to work, and that evening was spent scrubbing the place down. A short Vietnamese man on a bicycle showed up with a bucket of cleaning products and removed the layer of dirt from the bathtub. Management replaced our toilet seat on day 1 and replaced the oven a day or two later. They fixed our electrical issues and installed a missing light fixture in our bathroom.

My parents decided to stick around for the rest of the week to help us out; what that meant to my husband and me, they will never know. I seriously don’t know what we would have done without their encouragement and know-how. My Dad made almost daily trips to the local hardware store to get mysterious objects that did things like level the bookcases on the uneven floor and color in rubbed-off spots or scratches on our wood furniture. I may even know now that these objects are called “shims” and “wood markers.” Are you impressed? Anyway, some day I need to brag about my parents’ incredible handyman skills. They have remodeled every house they’ve lived in, building cabinets and beds, tiling walls and floors, tearing down and building up walls–wow. Mom, Dad, are you sure I wasn’t adopted? And could you please confirm that you’re proud I now know the word “shims”? It’s important for my self-esteem.

Dirt was scoured away, the kitchen floor was scrubbed and waxed, holes were drilled, boxes unpacked, and a wonderful trip to Ikea (which has made me a faithful follower) resulted in a butcher’s block to add counter space to our kitchen, shelving for the kitchen and bathroom, rugs for the living areas, and a myriad of other things that made our place more comfortable and home-like. I was starting to feel a lot happier.

God blessed me with a job 6 weeks after moving to Chicago. Broadway Armory Park is right next door, where I take yoga classes. The library, grocery store and El stop are within about 3 minutes of our door. I love our Thorndale stop, and I never want to forsake it for another. Here it is in the glorious Saturday morning light:

Our neighborhood is safe, and we live on this beautiful tree-lined street.

And I haven’t even mentioned the beach yet, which is only 2 street East and keeps our place cooler than most on hot summer days.

I have to ask myself–could it be any better? I don’t think so–at least not ’til heaven.

Here are some shots of our apartment as it stands, one year in. In the morning a yellow glow just floods the house, and combined with the smell of coffee wafting from our trusty pre-programmed coffee maker–well, I love it. We’ll start in the 2nd bedroom:

We split the livingroom into 2 areas; the computer area:

. . . and the main area:

We also split what was a huge dining room into an eating area . . .

. . . and a little library. This is my favorite spot to sit on a slow Saturday morning, with my Bible and coffee in hand.

My husband also loves playing the guitar in this space.

There is an open bookshelf between the two areas that houses both books and dishes. And yes, those are Baileys glasses. If you have never experienced Baileys (or any Irish cream, really) in your coffee, your life has not been what it could be. But it’s not too late for anyone! Don’t give up on yourself yet!

On Saturday we had a celebratory breakfast at our local diner, one of my husband’s favorite neighborhood spots.

We walked down to the lake . . .

. . . and then had a spontaneous day out and about in the city, which included seeing the movie “Inception” downtown (definitely recommend it), visiting the Art Museum, and going to an open-air ballet performance at Millenium Park. 

So a word of encouragement–if you have just moved or experienced a life change and are feeling overwhelmed, appalled, and despairing, that’s where I was 1 year ago today. And yet the past year has been one of the most peaceful and happy ones that I can remember. This city and this apartment has been my favorite place to live, my new job has been my favorite place to work, and this has been one of our best years of marriage.

Tonight my husband is in Oklahoma visiting our friend Tyler, and I’ll be here in the apartment eating some Arroz a la Cubana . . . but I’ll be pouring a little glass of something or another to quietly toast our 1 year anniversary in Chicago, looking forward to an equally awesome Year #2 ahead.