“Mommy, Ann is coloring on the table!”  My oldest daughter tattles.  I sigh and return to the kitchen to find amidst the chaos of the room, my then 1 year old, with crayon in hand, creating a “masterpiece” on my new table.  I take the crayon from her, remind her we only color on paper and then survey the damage.  It will clean up fine of course but it took me about 2 weeks to actually clean it.  There was more wrong that day in the kitchen than a toddler who was just “being a toddler”.  There were dishes piled in the sink, crumbs and dirt peppered the floor, food on the counters (with more dishes) and stuff just towering on every surface in the room.

I felt behind each day from the moment I woke and couldn’t seem to catch up.  As days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and months sadly turned into years, my home was growing more and more out of control.  Sure, in a day’s time I could get it presentable enough for planned guests but the closets would be bursting at the seams from all the clutter I had thrown into them to give the appearance that my house was neat and orderly.  I had more than a few boxes which I had filled with miscellaneous stuff and stuck in a closet somewhere to go through “someday”.

I began to dread each day and started sleeping later and later.  I didn’t want to face the dishes, dirty floors, grimy toilets or the laundry.  I knew I’d never get caught up so why even try.  Every attempt I made seemed to be spoiled when my kids would destroy the room I had just finished cleaning while I was cleaning another room.  So it seemed I was always barking at them to pick up their toys or to stop playing with stuff that wasn’t theirs (things we had left out and should have put away).  My husband would come home to a discouraged wife, rowdy kids and a house that was about to fall in on him.

Discontentment filled my heart as I began to despise my home.  I no longer saw how beautiful I once found it.  My home had become like a piece of tarnished silver.  It had no luster, no sparkle, and no life.  I was no longer in love with my home, I was dissatisfied and ungrateful.  I forgot what it looked like when it was clean and taken care of.  The new table I mentioned was purchased not just because we needed a table but because I thought it would help the house look better.  It did for a bit and then it was covered with clutter just like everything else.

Then one day during my study time (which I wasn’t doing often enough) the Lord begun to work on me regarding my attitude and the negative habits I had formed.  He told me that by just straightening up the house when company was coming over, I was being fake and cheating those I loved the most.  So, I began to look for ways to form new habits.  I joined a website called FlyLady.  The system taught at that website is to regain control of the stuff in your house one step at a time.  In the past I’ve always been an all or nothing kind of gal so it was totally against my nature to only shine my kitchen sink.  I wanted the entire kitchen to be presto, change-o clean!  I knew though that I would burn myself out if I tried to tackle it all in one day (or even a week).  I began to set small goals and when I met those goals I had a sense of accomplishment even if the rest of the house looked awful.

This is now my fourth week and little by little I’ve begun to unearth what I once treasured – my home.  Every week I’m adding on as I can handle it.  There are still areas of my home that need de-cluttering but I’m working on them a bit at a time.  My house is presentable now and while it isn’t perfect, since it’s what I’m offering my family daily – it is good enough for my guests as well.  As the layers of dirt and grime are coming off and the stray items are finding their homes again (or finding a new home with someone else) – I find that I am falling back in love with my house.  It’s looking bigger, it’s feeling cozy, and it’s pretty!

I’ve even been getting up about 3 hours earlier than I was.  My allergies have been considerably improved by removing so much of the dust in the house.  My husband raves about the work I’m doing daily.  “Oh wow, you IRONED my shirts?!”  (It’s a well known fact that I loathe ironing).  I think just seeing how it is positively affecting him would be reason enough to keep it up.  It’s affecting me in a positive way also.  I find I don’t dread waking up like I did.  I have a sense of accomplishment and a sense of peace knowing that I am pleasing not only my husband but my God who has graciously given me much to be thankful for.