living with lists 4.September.2008

I have tried FlyLady.  I have tried winging it.  I have sent myself on many, many guilt trips.

The thing is, my dear mom has a housekeeping plan for her house that left no room for failure.  If she planned to clean Friday, she cleaned Friday.  Her follow-through rate is amazing.  Mine?  Not so good.

FlyLady wasn’t so bad.  I have to say, it was motivating… in a cute sort of way.  Attitude and self-image were of high importance; I have a hard time arguing with that.  But the emails.  Ugh.  The emails drained me before I even got started.  I think you’re supposed to forget about the daily missions if you don’t do them for the day.  But I saved them.  I had piles and piles of uncompleted household missions that stared me in the face every day, reminding me that I would never catch up.

I abandoned FlyLady shortly before Isaiah was born.  And, well, the house has been a disaster since then.  I clean, oh, once a month?  I don’t know; I don’t count anymore.  But it stinks (literally, as of yesterday)because, you know, I like a clean house.  But beyond that — way beyond that — I’ve been wanting to seek God’s purpose in my daily life.

I believe one can know the big picture of needing Christ, and maybe even be motivated to love and evangelize those who don’t know about his saving grace, without inviting Him into the everyday.  But what about eating, sleeping, and getting groceries?  What about cleaning the toothpaste-caked bathroom?  What about changing your baby’s wet diapers (I’m not even talking poop; that takes some grace!  Pee is the mundane for me.)?  What about washing the car, ironing, sending the laundry through its cycles?  Where does God come into our lives during those moments?

Ann at A Holy Experience has been blogging about ceremony in recent days.  Read her words from her post “Live a Celebrated Life: the beauty of ceremony”:

If we consider an occasion meaningful, we develop a ceremony to duly recognize it. Simply, ceremony is a repeated action that marks important happenings: always candles on birthday cakes, centerpieces for Thanksgiving, vows on wedding days.

And yet, isn’t every day important? Do not all of our acts warrant ceremony?

Ann goes on to describe God’s way of creating ceremony in our lives: the sun rising and setting in splendor, the stars decorating the night sky.  So, too, we can mark the beginning of a new school year with bright, sharpened pencils; begin a meal with a prayer of joy and thanksgiving for a generous God; grace our ironing time with a blaze of music.

But how can there be ceremony if there is no mundane task to deck out in grace?  We can set out to only enjoy life, throw our work and schedules to the wind, and thank God for what prosperity may come.  Or we can embrace the mundane as opportunity for everyday beauty, for seeing the fruit of labor ripen and bless our lives because we tended it with diligence.

I’m good at imagining diligence.  I can make lists like no one’s business.  Don’t believe me?  Please see the following example.  She is one of (at least) three lists that will guide me in my housekeeping tasks:

Monday

Sweep/scrub floors (Kitchen and Living room)

“Spring” cleaning: Choose task(s) from monthly list (another list for another day!)

Clean out fridge and microwave

Tuesday

Clean bathrooms: counters, toilets, baths, showers

Dust everything

Clean kitchen counters

Plan weekly meals

Make shopping/errand lists

Check grocery store sales

Clean out purse

Declutter top of dresser

Isaiah’s bath night

Wednesday

Run errands: grocery store, post office, library, gifts, etc.

Pay bills; balance accounts

Write thank-you notes and letters (including MOPS)

Go through mailbox

Declutter and organize desk; File papers

Email Mom and sisters

Clean out car

Toss old magazines

Thursday

Vacuum everything

Scrub bathroom floors

Declutter washer and dryer

Hobbies: cards, photo albums, knitting, creating art, etc.

Friday

Sweep tile floors; Spot scrub as needed

Wash car, if needed

Laundry: wash, dry, fold, put away

Ironing

Change bathroom towels

Shine mirrors and glass

Date night

Saturday

Work on household project, if needed

Garage/Yard Day

Clean kitchen counters

Take bath; Shave legs; Wash hair

Isaiah’s bath night

Sunday

Go to church

Rest, worship, play

Write rough weekly to-do list

Empty all trash and put out trash barrels

Whew.  Now that we’ve got that over with, let us all agree that I know the work that needs to be done around a house.  But I also know the guilt of seeing my lack of checkmarks at the end of a day.

I have approached this new homekeeping project asking God to help me keep the beauty — His beauty — in it.  Today, I decided that I may hand-write the entire list in my journal, paste pictures I love beside the daily tasks, and use the list more of a guide than anything.  I will grace the list with encouragement from the Encourager Himself:  “Commit your works to the LORD, and your plans will be established…. The mind of man plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps.” (Proverbs 16.3,9)

More than anything, I don’t want my cleaning of my house and planning meals to rise above my desire to make our house warm and inviting — not only for guests — but for my family.  I want joy and peace, goodness and love to reign here.

That is why I want to add ceremony to our lives.  So to my daily task list, I add:

• One hour of reading with Isaiah (yes, it’s a lot, but it’s so precious and important)
• One hour enjoying nature
• Time with God, early in the morning
• Thirty minutes of reading for pleasure; thirty minutes of writing
• Singing and reading Psalms with Isaiah every morning

These look like more tasks to accomplish, but they give us something to look forward to.  They motivate me for things that would otherwise be drudgery and rigidity.  They compel to me to let myself experience grace and rediscover purpose when all I can focus on is what I have done or haven’t done.  The lists are just for me; God isn’t giving grades.

in pursuit of gratitude 13.August.2008

I woke up angry.  Or I arrived there quickly.  Isaiah was standing beside our bed a few minutes before six, saying, “More milk?”  We give him what he wants at that hour — fill his little cup and tuck him back in bed with his blankets.

In minutes, he was back by my bedside.  He wanted to go night-night with mommy.  Figuring it was the only remaining chance to get him to go back to sleep, I pulled him up beside me.

He didn’t go back to sleep.  He tossed and turned, drank his milk, touched my face with his hands and then his feet.  “Stop,” I barked at him.  He smiled at me in return.  Things were not going well.

At seven I gave up, angry.  Angry that I could not have my quiet time with God this morning.  Angry that Isaiah would probably be grumpy later on in the day because of his shortage of sleep.  Angry because as hard as I try to get up earlier in the mornings, Isaiah keeps getting up earlier, too.  Angry because I felt like God owed me a few minutes of solitude and preparation time before having to face the day.

These words from Ann’s blog, A Holy Experience, greeted me as I checked my blog feeds this morning:

“Give up
the bitterness, the anger, the sadness

for what isn’t,
that you wish you had.

And embrace the gift of what you do have.

For therein

is really what you want more of:

Joy.”

-Elizabeth Elliot

My heart sunk with remorse at my anger.  What would have been my most convincing argument toward God — God, I won’t even be able to meet with You alone this morning! — was crushed in the realization that God had not allowed Isaiah to go back to sleep.  What I had was a happy boy, an awake boy, ready to greet the day.  And I could not even be thankful for his health and his happiness and the night of rest God had already granted me.  Instead, I propped up my worthy idols and asked God to worship them.

Today, I am going to join the Gratitude Community and start making my own list of One Thousand Gifts.  I’ve loved reading other bloggers’ lists of gifts from God, but I’ve resisted starting my own list because (sigh) I like to be original and different and not give in to the trends of the blogosphere.  But I give in.  Because my gratitude is worth nursing more than my pride.  I released my idols this morning and stepped into the day with my little Isaiah.  I took him to the park, and in my head, I began to form a list…

1. 73 degrees at 9 a.m.  Ah, sweet relief from the heat wave!  The soft warmth of sunlight on my face, and the morning air rushing over my face…

2. My little boy in pursuit of friendship.  His little hand cupped inside an older child’s…

3. The delight that splashes across his face in watching a black lab…

4.  The familiar faces of women in my neighborhood.  Their presence convinces me I am not a stranger here.

5. The bread dough on my stove, slowly, slowly rising…

6. The anticipation of seeing my husband tonight…

a proverbs 31 wannabe 7.August.2008

I read Proverbs 31.10-31 as much as any chapter in the Bible.  Maybe it’s because that’s my lot in life right now — a homemaker, a home organizer, the female force of our family (nice alliteration, eh?).  And it motivates me to see the beauty that this woman makes of her family’s home.  The people around her are more whole because of her.

Tonight I read The Message version for the first time:

A good woman is hard to find,
and worth far more than diamonds.

Her husband trusts her without reserve,
and never has reason to regret it.
Never spiteful, she treats him generously all her life long.

She shops around for the best yarns and cottons,
and enjoys knitting and sewing.

She’s like a trading ship that sails to faraway places
and brings back exotic surprises.

She’s up before dawn,
preparing breakfast for her family
and organizing her day.

She looks over a field and buys it,
then, with money she’s put aside,
plants a garden.

First thing in the morning, she dresses for work,
rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started.

She senses the worth of her work,
is in no hurry to call it quits for the day.

She’s skilled in the crafts of home and hearth,
diligent in homemaking.

She’s quick to assist anyone in need,
reaches out to help the poor.

She doesn’t worry about her family when it snows;
their winter clothes are all mended and ready to wear.
She makes her own clothing,
and dresses in colorful linens and silks.

Her husband is greatly respected
when he deliberates with the city fathers.

She designs gowns and sells them,
brings the sweaters she knits to the dress shops.
Her clothes are well-made and elegant,
and she always faces tomorrow with a smile.

When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say,
and she always says it kindly.

She keeps an eye on everyone in her household,
and keeps them all busy and productive.

Her children respect and bless her;
her husband joins in with words of praise:
“Many women have done wonderful things,
but you’ve outclassed them all!”

Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades.
The woman to be admired and praised
is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God.
Give her everything she deserves!
Festoon her life with praises!

Be silent, you feminists.  This is as high of a calling as they come.  Would I could be to my family what this woman is to hers.

The only problem is, I look at this portrait and think: Is she real?  Is this even possible? Shouldn’t I, as a daughter of the Almighty, a temple of the Spirit, be able to pull off a decent fraction of these qualities?  But instead, I get about one thing done a day.  I “make about a dollar” (to quote Donald Miller in Blue Like Jazz).

The time is swallowed up by some faceless behemoth, and I am left at 12.09a.m. in the darkness, typing, hoping that by some drizzle of grace, I can do better tomorrow.