Even Kitchen Floors

Lately, things have been piling up – the laundry, the dishes, the clutter in every room, our schedule – and I’ve been feeling anxious and overwhelmed with all that I need to do to “catch up”.

Yesterday morning, as I stared at my kitchen floor that so desperately needed washing, all I could think about was how much I hate cleaning that floor. It’s old, it’s stained, it’s ugly, and has become so worn over the years that it takes great effort to get all the dirt out of the crevices and cracks (and yes, that is a photo of my vintage “Harvest Gold” floor).

But as I stared down my kitchen, grumbling under my breath, my body already anticipating the fatigue, words I read only a few days ago came flooding back and halted my overwhelm (thank you Homeschool Haven, with Kristy Cammell ! Link to her beautiful post here).

I stopped to breathe a prayer. Inviting the God of more than enough into the moment. Asking Him to change my perspective and help me look beyond the task. He answered.

Suddenly, instead of seeing the disdainfully old and outdated, a throwback to a bygone era, the stained and scarred, bearing the footprints and messes of four rambunctious boys, I saw beauty reflected there. A celebration of a life lived well. Of a family who enjoys being together and welcomes others to join them in this space. A place where weary feet stand on long days to serve love shaped like nutritious meals. Where little hands are taught new skills and learn to help. Where prayers for loved ones and strangers alike are whispered over sudsy dishes.

I stopped to listen for the echo. Of the footsteps of those who have walked here before, stood shoulder to shoulder and prepared food together, who’ve sat and listened as my breaking heart spilled out, or washed my dishes and cleaned counters while I was drowning in grief. Stopped to hear the laughter of family and friends gathered around our table. Stopped to see with eyes and heart of gratitude instead of discontent. And found a gift, wrapped in golden hues.

As I tuned into the worship playing through my headphones and scrubbed at stubborn spots, something in me broke open. My heart poured out to my Saviour. Praising Him for His goodness and His provision. Releasing my burdens to Him and trusting in His faithfulness. Thanking Him for His gifts – the ones I often miss because I’m just not looking.

And as His presence swept into the room and the floor was watered with my tears, an unpleasant task transformed into an act of worship. The mundane became sacred. My kitchen floor, Holy ground. And I was overwhelmed with the wonder of Him.

I share this with you because I know how easy it is to lose sight of the Truth. To get weighed down with burdens and responsibilities. To walk into our ordinary and relegate the God of Wonders to mountain tops and burning bushes.

But He’s present in our every day too. Waiting for the invitation to come in and transform tedious into something extraordinary. To elevate our sight from the temporal to the eternal. To shoulder our yoke with us and give us rest.

Today, whether you’re facing really hard things, the monotony of never ending tasks, or the exhaustion and overwhelm of another day’s responsibilities and cares, won’t you take a moment to invite God into your difficult and your ordinary? You will be amazed what He will do with your invitation.

Let Him transform the mediocre into something marvelous, trials into a testimony of His faithfulness, and weariness into moments of wonder. Even while scrubbing dirty kitchen floors.

“He does not ask much of us, merely a thought of Him from time to time, a little act of adoration, sometimes to ask for His grace, sometimes to offer Him your sufferings, at other times to thank Him for the graces, past and present, He has bestowed on you, in the midst of your troubles to take solace in Him as often as you can. Lift up your heart to Him during your meals and in company; the least little remembrance will always be the most pleasing to Him. One need not cry out very loudly; He is nearer to us than we think.”

― Brother Lawrence,  The Practice of the Presence of God

Until next time…