Love in an undusted house~

Last Friday I was off work and had taken my place on the couch with a heating pad when the Mr. announced that, if it was ok, a buddy of his was stopping by on Sunday evening to watch TV. Oh Lord. I had been laying on the couch with a heating pad all week with what is probably fibromyalgia and my house was the pits. I still wasn't feel well and was working on Saturday and Sunday so I told the Mr. that I didn't mind but, well, the thing is, this house...

Don't worry! says the Mr. He'll do all of the housework this weekend, laundry and groceries too. I need to rest.

Oh Lord. He doesn't really clean the house like I clean the house. And not that long ago, I wouldn't have been able to cope with that. I would have either asked him not to have his friend over or I would've gotten off of the couch and cleaned the house myself. Oh, and been an angry martyr in the process. God is doing a work in me because I thanked Dean and took a nap. So he went along over the weekend doing everything wrong. :) On Saturday evening when I got home from work he was on his way to the bathroom with an armful of cleaning supplies; none of which were the "proper" supplies. I stood in the hallway and told him a fun story about how I clean the bathroom floor by putting bleach and warm water in a bucket and then scrub it on my hands and knees! Isn't that great? Give it a try!

Nope. I don't know what process he used because I just walked away Renee. Whatever the method was, the results were mediocre. The fixtures were spotty. And and and...it was done. And it was ok.

Sunday afternoon he had laundry spread from one end of the house to the other, the kitchen was a mess and the furniture hadn't been dusted (or undusted, if you are Amelia Bedelia.) The floors weren't swept. There weren't fresh Scentsy bricks burning making everything smell pretty.

He did start putting the laundry away. The thing is, he shoves it all in the drawers and then kind closes them with stuff hanging out the tops. He never did undust or sweep. He loaded the dishwasher but didn't wipe down the counters or clear the table off.

So you know what I did? I had a bowl of soup, put on my jammies and climbed into bed to watch old movies.

Because it's ok. It didn't used to be but it is now. Don't get me wrong, I still love a clean and good-smelling house done "right." And I did get up on Monday morning and undust the furniture and sweep the floors. But I did not scrub the bathroom floor or polish the fixtures. I did straighten the dresser drawers but I did not worry about what hadn't been done the night before. I was instead, so thankful for what was done. So thankful for this house. So thankful that I am learning what is worth focusing on. And so thankful that I am finally starting to outgrow the need to do it all and then feel unappreciated and used. After all, that attitude doesn't glorify God and so it's no surprise that I don't feel blessed by my labors.

Grace.