Cleaning House

While mopping my lovely kitchen floor this morning, I was scrubbing away at crumbs of dark chocolate brownie imbedded into grout lines, wiping away dots of milk from yesterday’s cereal breakfast, and I found something.  Guess what it was…?!?!?!

A dot of paint.

No one has painted the house since we moved into it (and we’ve been here awhile).  So, as I was on the floor, scrubbing away on my hands and knees this morning, that particular spot of paint spoke to me.  I have washed this floor many times in the same manner, and I would’ve almost sworn that I had covered every inch of the beige, textured tile with my hands meticulously washing away dirt from former residents and new dirt of our own….

A dot of paint!

I missed a spot…with my eyes…with my hands.  Alas, I am not perfect at mopping the floor.

I’m not perfect at anything.  I don’t know how long that dot of paint has been there…but today it is gone.  And I thought about life….

…and how we all have spots and stains and imperfections and dots of paint in our lives.  For some of us, we may be struggling with honesty; others may worry.  Some of us live with fear, instability, lack of self-confidence, pride, loneliness…and any other multitude of issues we would like to change.  As I scrubbed that spot away, peeling back its stubborn stickiness from the tile, I felt free.  I felt amazing.  I felt confident that the floor was CLEAN, PURE, SPOTLESS.

As we take a look at our lives up-close and personally, we can “clean house” of the issues, stains, and weight we are carrying and become free from whatever feelings may be hampering our progress.  I’m going to continue to ponder today.  Will you join me?  I like this blogging world so much better when we are working together! 🙂

Sending hugs to all of you as you continue on this journey we call life.  And, because cleaning (and changing) often go better with a little music, here are some songs for your enjoyment… 🙂
From Enchanted…. (though the roaches still make me cringe!!!)


Snow White is classic….

And Tangled is all about a girl changing her life and looking for more light!

And speaking of light…sending all of you love and light on your journey! 🙂

Upon Waking

In my dream two nights ago, I was preparing for a severe storm.  Apparently, we lived in a ginormous house, and I was on the telephone and iPad (coordinating with people who may need to come visit and stay in the basement of said ginormous house) when I received a phone call from my sister. We chatted while I worked; then, suddenly, alarm filled her voice as she said, “Your little guy is choking!” (He was staying with her for some reason, I’m guessing.) We got off the phone, and I continued my preparations for the storm. I was trying to get a weather report on the iPad (but was having connection trouble) when my phone rang again.  My sister’s voice on the other end simply said, “He’s dead.”

In that moment, (trying to assure her…or maybe even myself…?) I said, “It’s okay. I just spent the most wonderful day with him yesterday.” My mind flashed back to moments of cuddles and stories and laughter and happiness of the prior day, and I truly did feel relief that, were he dead, he died knowing his mother loved him and had done all she knew to care for him.

Upon waking, of course a bit of alarm set in, and I removed my covers as my feet carried me, almost without thinking, to his room. I reached for the spot on his back where his Batman pajama shirt had lifted and exposed a tiny stripe of skin above his waistline. I touched it and waited for my hand to rise and fall with his breath. As my hand moved up and down in time with his diaphragm’s expansion and contraction, I took a breath myself for the first time in several moments.

I proceeded to find all of my little people, alive and well, breathing the slow, heavy breath of sleep, of dreams. I fell to my knees in the last one’s room to offer up thanks for sparing their lives each day so that I can have the privilege of more sweet moments with them.

My feet then returned me toward my bedroom. As I walked through the kitchen, the microwave clock read a scarlet 2:38. Lifting my covers, I returned to bed but not to sleep. I lay pondering the day, wondering that if–or when–that phone call ever came to me, would I be able to respond with the same feeling of relief embodied in my dream–that our last moments together were blissful, peaceful, loving, happy? Would my children leave this frail existence knowing that their mother loved them? I was determined to work on sharing the love of my heart with them more readily and worry less about the little irritations and fatigue that so easily beset me. I was determined to complain less and love more, to fuss less and laugh more, to worry less and sing more.

Will you join me?

🙂