My mom, who worked teaching kids during the week while her own were in Christian school, cleaned house every Saturday morning. She was fast at it, too.
I’m not like my mom; I homeschool my only child, I clean a bit daily, and I’m slow. I also have been learning to take Sabbath rest on Saturday instead of the Sunday tradition I had grown up with.
We were supposed to do restful things on Sundays, growing up. No homework, so I usually did mine on Friday, as if it weren’t the weekend but a normal school day. Chores and play on Saturdays. But my dad, the one who didn’t allow us to do school work on Sundays, once justified me scrubbing a kitchen floor.
It was when my mom was going to be coming home from the hospital to die. The kitchen floor was a mess. She never would have put up with it! So while Dad went to church, I came home from the hospital and scrubbed. He came home while I was doing it and I said, “I know I’m breaking your rule, Dad. I’m worshipping on my knees.”
“Do you scrub kitchen floors on your knees every day?” he asked.
“No, I hardly ever do!”
“There you go then, and I’m sure it’s restful.”
It was, to see the clean floor, knowing my mom would be coming back to her house. Not knowing she wouldn’t walk into the kitchen.
Today I cleaned a bit for a neighbor and a bit for ourselves, and I was feeling week and still sick, so I napped. All the while Ravinia played with her friend who had come for a sleepover and stayed the day.
Cleaning, restful. Always more to do, but rejoicing in the restful sabbath work, and I didn’t do more than I joyfully could.
Praising God today!