Ding-Dong

     On a recent winter morning, I had an unusual burst of domestic verve. After my customary two cups of coffee, I got busy picking up the house, loading laundry into the machine, brushing a swirl of blue cleaner in toilets and spraying all the surfaces in the kitchen with antibacterial liquid. What was that sticky stuff behind the toaster?

     I have to say, I was in the zone. I hadn’t even put on clothes. My old robe and slippers were just fine for this day at home. Admittedly, I should have tossed the robe in to the washer with one of the loads. It was marked with coffee drips and and a rather large yellow egg stain. (My nick-name should be Spot.) I had to laugh when I looked into the bathroom mirror while cleaning and saw several clumps of my short hair standing at wacky angles.

     I was deep into scouring, even gloved in yellow rubber, when the doorbell rang. Of course, I wasn’t going to open the door looking like that! What I did do was peek out of the front bedroom window to see who it was. I didn’t recognize the car, but I am oblivious to what my friends drive, so that didn’t help. I strained a bit more and saw the visitor staring at the door. My pulse quickened. It was a dear friend I hadn’t seen in over a year. But, how could I open the door like this? I was barely presentable for the dog, let alone my good friend. It was clear I needed to change first.

     I ran to the bedroom and changed into jeans and a shirt. I stuck my hairbrush under the faucet and quickly tried to tame the mane. Heading back to the door, I pinched my cheeks remembering that’s how they created color in prairie days. This will have to do, I thought. 
     I swung open the door to see the car heading out of the neighborhood.
     A note hung from the door knocker. 
              Wendie, I’m so sorry I didn’t get to visit with you.
               I’d looked forward to it. Maybe next time. 

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     Jesus said, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” (Revelation 3:20 ESV)
     I missed it. I was too concerned with looking presentable for my friend. How foolish. If I had opened the door I’m sure I would have been greeted with a smile. We would have spent good time together. But, because I was vain, because my pride took over, I missed it.
     Do I miss answering the door to Jesus because I think I have to be “presentable” before I can let him in? Doesn’t Jesus who sees all things and knows our thoughts even before we do want to see that doorknob turn? Even if I put on my finest formal gown, had my hair and makeup done and teeth whitened, I’d still be lacking. I might look pretty in the mirror, but Samuel 16:7 tells me that man looks at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart. 
      In all of my efforts to clean, did I take time to clean my heart that morning? Perhaps, if I had, my morning would have been filled with assurance instead of trying too hard. I’ve talked with people who think they have to earn Jesus. They feel like until they can check off a list of completed tasks, they aren’t ready. That’s when I remind them of the thief hanging next to Jesus. He didn’t climb down and complete a list. He was guilty... but forgiven because of his faith. There’s only one cleaner I need and that’s the blood Jesus gave on the cross.
     Remove my sin and make me pure. Wash me until I am whiter than snow!  (Psalm 51:7 ERV)

     I opened the door of my heart to him years ago dressed in the stinking filth of sin. Are you still waiting? Still trying? Don’t miss it.
     Listen. Was that the doorbell?

Marching Orders

Yesterday I was domestic.  Rare around here anymore.  I used to be a pretty good housekeeper.  Now, I'm a really good dirt hider. Cleaning can be physically exhausting and a bore.  Just saying.  But, can I just "air out" a few things?

Winter 2011 has been full of, well, germs.  Friends have all been bombarded with two illnesses.  One is the Type A flu that wasn't included in the Flu shot we were all supposed to get.  It's taken body builders down.  Most have been lifeless resembling Olive Oil and sometimes whining with fevers for five days.  Not to mention the cold symptoms.  The other is the Norovirus which is a vicious stomach/intestine thing that has docked cruise ships.  It, too, lasts for almost a week.  Highly contagious. Some lucky souls have had it twice. Within the last two weeks, both of my adult kids have joined the ranks. All this makes me want become a high-class hermit. Forget the cabin hidden in the hills.  I'll take a disinfected suite on a sunny island with plenty of fruity umbrella drinks.

So, with everyone finally out of the house and temps close to 60, I opened windows, scoured bathrooms from top to bottom, changed sheets and sanitized everything but the dog.  If I knew how to do that, he'd be even whiter. (Wonder why he's been in his crate all day?) My hands look like I've been on safari without any moisturizers.  I may need Crisco by this point.

As I type, the aroma of Lysol permeates my tranquil moment.  If we can make it until Spring,  I may not have to clean again for at least 6 months!  We'll all be out on the deck anyway, sipping our umbrella drinks.