Friday, April 29, 2011


You have to marvel over the grit and dedication of salmon, who will sacrifice all, literally thrusting their bodies against the elements, in order to fulfill the divine call to reproduce. Their reward is often death. You can't write a more tragic tale.

My call to duty may not be as glorious a mission as spawning, but like the salmon who fights against the tumbling flow of water, I too feel I am swimming upstream to fulfill a mission that will ultimately end in my death.

I speak of housework...

Do you not feel it also, the daily press to make some forward progress, to see the goal--a clean house and folded laundry--while recognizing its heartbreaking futility because no matter how hard you swim, there will always be another Oreo-and-milk-smeared glass, another "I-gave-the-dog-a-bath-towel pile, one path of destruction left in the wake of a toddler and a box of Cheerios. You know whereof I speak.

There is no victory in the battle against housework. It never ends unless you no longer have a house in which to work, or clothes to fold, and food to clean up after. Like the folks in parts of Alabama and elsewhere.

But there is joy in offering the gift called homemaking, where instead of fighting the repetitive chores that revolve around caring for a family, we embrace the fact that disorder is the result of being blessed, and the idea that organizing the disorder is a cycle and not a war.

Yep, I feel like a salmon most days, picking up the same socks, washing the same dishes, scrubbing the same sinks, but today I'm grateful to have socks, and sinks and dishes, and lots of other things.

We're all praying for Alabama and North Carolina and the rest of the affected cities and their people. They need our help. Dig deep.

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