Scrubbing the hall paneling was on the agenda for today. It's one of those tasks that, once accomplished, can instill a feeling of either satisfaction or disappointment. It depends on the intended purpose. Since hearing a reactive, "Wow! Look at that clean paneling!" is NOT my goal, I think I'm okay with the simple satisfaction of checking it off on my to-do list and quietly admiring the somewhat more uniform glow each time I pass through the hallway.
It is during the carrying out of this type of task when I experience my most fruitful quiet time and the most enlightening spiritual communing. Author, Rick Warren (Purpose Driven Life) is spot on when he reminds us that even the most menial tasks can (and should) glorify God. As with music, there is something in the rhythmic motion that settles the mind and we become more receptive to "listening." Sometimes our minds are so boggled by the struggle to think things through that we forget to listen.
Today, during my listening, I was thinking about how thankful I am for the strength and agility to take care of most of the household upkeep. I'm not interested in martyrdom, however, and when necessary, I do "call in the troops" and count them among my blessings!
There's something very tenderly reassuring as I go about caring for things that Bob put in place - each tile, each screw or in this case, each nail in the paneling. There is a connection there that I can't really explain. Today, for instance, I recalled quite vividly the process of the paneling going up. The selection, the purchase, the installation and the conversations we had along the way. While I am most assuredly living in the now and not in the past, I am thankful for these spontaneous reflections and their delightful reminders of how blessed I am.
Putting paneling along the lower half of the wall was a solution to end the perpetual hole-in-the-wall problem. Let me explain: First, you have to remember, we had a house full of kids. There were doorstops for each door; those rubber-tipped kind on a spring that screws into the molding at floor level. The "crawling age" children took great delight in "playing" them like musical instruments. Boing, boing, boing! As a result, they were always loose and falling out. The older, "running age" children had a habit of flinging doors open, driving the doorknob through the wall (and slamming them shut...sometimes on unsuspecting fingers, unfortunately). They even discovered it was possible to "ride" a door by holding both doorknobs, straddling the edge and lifting their feet. We were able to curb the door riding, for the most part...I think. They probably did it when we weren't looking. Anyway...it seemed that there was always either a gaping hole or a patch on the wall in our hallway. The patch, you could live with...sort of. The hole was another thing. Toddlers are absolutely fascinated by holes in walls that they have to stand on their tip-toes to reach and try to peer into. They are incapable of heeding "Leave that alone!" no matter how often it is spoken or what voice inflection is used. The hole also became a game activity site, I discovered one day. One child would drop something in while another would be stationed in the basement to retrieve it. But of course, none were ever retrieved because a house isn't exactly constructed as such. So there were a few tears, too, over items that vanished into the dark hole of lost toys. Who knows what all is in there; I have no idea. Although, I do know for certain there is one plastic screwdriver. I did happen to witness that. Gosh, it seems like yesterday......
But this is today and what a gift it has been to spend part of it with visions of family I love so much, then and now, knowing they have all the tools they need to care for their own holes in the wall.
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