Where the Crib is Clean
May 27, 2017
Where the Crib is Clean
It is 1900 hours. I’m at war. I come in armed with every weapon in the arsenal. I am determined to win this battle. THIS HOUSE WILL BE CLEAN!
“Mommy!” squeals the toddler, streaking through soaking wet and followed closely by another child, chasing him, in shoes that have obviously been outside. Battle temporarily paused as main unit boils like a canning pot in frustration.
The most simple and yet most complex of all equations: H2O + DIRT = MUD … and wet couches, footprints… this is the assault that never ends, it goes on and on my friends! And yes. It Will NEVER END! (Especially if you have a child and/or a pet – and in this equation, 2 doesn’t equal double the mess, it equals mess to the tenth power!)
While the sounds of war (okay, laughter and squeals of rapturous joy – but those sounds feel like flaming arrows right now) engulf my brain into retreat and I attempt to bury myself in a book and disappear, I’m able to find my big-vision goggles.
When I’m at a loss for what to read, I grab the Bible and open to Proverbs, look at the calendar (or attempt to remember the date for ten minutes before I give up and check my wall or my phone), and read that date’s chapter. Well, it was the 14th of I-forgot-the-month. (Oh yes, January – one birthday just done, another around the corner and year-end business reports due on the 15th! Oh my, that’s tomorrow!)
Proverbs 14:4 reads : “Where no oxen are, the crib is clean, but much increase is by the strength of the ox.”
What I saw was: “Where no children are in the house, it is clean, but much blessing, love, joy, and strength are gained by the vibrant, amazing, intelligent young people being trained within!”
Big vision goggles on.
“Cleaning the house” is a battle that will never end. But, just like a productive farm has a dirty “crib” (okay, think motor oil spills and mud tracked in the barn by a tractor today) and a productive kitchen has dirty dishes (yes, my dishes are stacked in a to-the roof model of the leaning tower of Pisa), a productive house is in a constant state of never-really-perfectly-clean. (Mine is in constant state of tornado-just-went-through.) A productive house, according to the same chapter I was reading means a place where wise parents are building up the next generation(s) and encouraging each other.
A game of Scream-the-Flash-Card-Answers has started. Lucas is on the drums. Jillian is watching Christina play the piano. I glance at the after-dinner kitchen chaos. Someone has unloaded the dish drain and Rebeccah is working on dismantling the leaning tower of Pisa without creating a demolition zone. My war on cleaning is secondary to the battle we are winning – the strategic, long-term battle of instilling character and truth in our children.
If I seriously believe that I should “Do everything as if unto God” and know that children follow my example more than my words, training would be to model a joyful attitude in mundane “serving” tasks like cleaning.
So, loud dance music comes on, (God knows me so well, “Born for This” – which is perfect, I love this song.) I try to delegate cleaning operations and bedtime preparations.
Oh yes, I’m a perfectionist and “clean” would pass hospital sterility, but if my “crib” is clean, it means my children aren’t there. I want to enjoy this “untidy crib” with all the vibrant life within it for as long as I can.
Translation: less stress about the house. Stop and play or teach as needed. Tidy up the last big mess at one set time with teamwork – it’s easier and more fun.
Thanks for reading!
Type at you next time,
~Nancy Tart
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