Free To Be Clean

Sometimes we need to take a break, get alone with God and let Him show us areas of our life He wants to deal with. I was led to take a little hiatus this summer and really sit at the feet of the Lord and LISTEN. Well, some of it I liked a lot, some made me cry tears of repentance and some left me saying, "Wow God."

No matter who we are, or what we do, we all have a primary ministry if we are married or mothers or both. That is a ministry to our family. I have always known that, but knowing and doing is sometimes different. For example, praying for my husband and giving him encouragement from the Word is easy for me. Keeping a very clean, and organized home, is NOT easy for me. In all of my busyness over the past couple of years of conferences, new book releases and helping others start their ministries, I had neglected the thing that makes my husband happy; a clean and organized house. And boy, when you begin to let things go, they snowball pretty fast. Those were the tears of repentance. Personally, my home was a disaster and my family felt neglected.

Thankfully, God always provides what we need when He sends us to a task. He provided a wonderful friend, Tabatha, who is amazing at organization and cleaning, and she, Melissa (my personal assistant) and I went to work. We donated, we threw out, we organized, and we scrubbed. I cannot tell you how much freedom there is in a clean house. There are still a few nooks and crannies to de-clutter and clean, but overall, it is transformed to what it should have been in the first place. My husband is already happier and I am so much happier.  Now, rather than having a huge cloud hanging over my head when I walk in the door, exhausted, and see the mess. I can spend 15 minutes a day keeping things picked up, swept, etc. And when my husband walks in, he can see that I love him, even if I’m not here to tell him.

The summer hiatus for renewal is almost over and I will be back to writing and ministry full swing, with my short cleaning breaks in between.

I write this because I know I’m not alone. As I posted updates on facebook, there was an outcry from women saying how much they admired my energy, or organization. They wanted to get motivated, but they could not; they didn’t know where to start. The responses went on and on, often from women I thought were far better in this area than I am. Most of them were private messages because they were too ashamed to admit their lack of zeal for their homes in public.

It broke my heart for my friends and for women in general. When did we go from June Cleaver to master hoarders? How did we allow the enemy to inflict something into our homes that would burden us with such guilt and feelings of failure?

2 Corinthians 10:4-5

New King James Version (NKJV)

For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds, casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ.

Does this scripture apply here? I believe it does. When the enemy of our souls uses something to heap guilt and shame upon our minds, it is spiritual warfare. Cleaning my house was not the weapon that freed my mind from the guilt. Time with God, time in His Word, and surrendering this area of my life to the Holy Spirit is what resulted in freedom. I then had the release to ask for help. It was only after the guilt was not holding me in chains that I could do the things in the physical that needed to be done. It all started in the spiritual.

 We, as women, get so busy doing all of the things we are supposed to be doing, that we often forget the most important parts of our life. We forget that everything in the natural is directly affected by things in the spiritual. It’s not a battle over dust-bunnies. It is a battle for our families. There are six things I have to do each day, no matter where I am or what is going on. When I allow God to lead my thoughts and actions toward my family, I defeat the attack of the enemy that says to neglect them before it even comes my way.

• 1.       I must pray for my heart to be right in every situation.
• 2.       I must forgive any offense I have encountered from my family.
• 3.       I must pray for my husband; that God would guard his heart, prosper his work and cover him with protection. (If you have children, pray the same for them.)
• 4.       I must consider first, what the needs of my home are for the day.
• 5.       I must communicate my love for my family in a language they will understand.
• 6.       I must take personal inventory of my heart and allow God to purge anything that would get in the way of what HE wants to do in me that day. 

As women, especially wives and mothers, we are given a responsibility to be the caregivers of those in our homes. It’s not just about a clean house.  It’s about showing them our love through the giving of our time and our commitment to them. It’s about knowing that they are the most important to us because they are so important to God. It is truly the ministry of being a wife, or a mother, or both. We are called and ordained to it, now, let’s do it. 

Do we see the need?



My inlaws when they were young

 This weekend I want to step aside from my usual blogging material and consider our forgotten generation. We all get so caught up with life, it's easy to ignore the people who have added so much to those busy lives.

Max's story -

Max was the best greeter. Walking into the grocery store was always nicer the days Max was there. He just went above and beyond the normal greeter duties. He was especially caring toward people with physical challenges. He took extra time to make sure they were okay, or didn’t need any help getting a cart or using one of the electric shopping scooters.

When Max smiled at his customers, it wasn’t just a polite, how-do-you-do kind of smile. His grin was contagious and spread all the way across his face. His eyes couldn’t help but join in. His presence in the entryway of the storeis eyeHis  brightened my day many times.

Over time Max slowed down a bit. He developed Parkinson’s disease, and after a while, couldn’t stand in the entry way for long. My friend, Kimberly, remembers the day she realized Max wasn’t there anymore. That was five years ago. I wonder about him too. Although neither of us really knew him, other than from the store, he left an indelible mark on our hearts with his kindness and contagious smile.

Kimberly had to stop by that store on her way home the other evening:

I was running late and hadn’t taken anything out of the freezer to cook for supper. I dashed into the store, grabbed my cart, and… ugh…it was stuck to the cart behind it. I tried one in the next row - stuck too. Wrestling to unstick my cart, while the greeter chatted with someone a few feet away, I thought of Max. He would have never let a customer fight with those carts. He un-stuck them before we ever walked through the door and handed them off to us like a baton being handed to a relay-runner.

Finally, the cart released and I headed to the produce department. Onions in the cart I headed toward the next item on my short list. The store was crowded. I was beginning to think the evening was designed as a lesson in patience. Traffic jams in every aisle slowed my pace considerably.  I finally inched past a cluster of women sharing baby stories and rounded the end-cap toward pasta, almost hitting a man sitting on one of those electric shopping scooters. The end-cap was filled with gallon sized bottles of cranberry juice. I stopped to wait for him to make his selection and move on. Traffic whizzing by us made it seem smarter to wait. He was a frail looking man with a sharp jawline and cheekbones that were too pronounced. A black baseball hat covered his head and blocked his eyes from view. He was just staring at the juice, and shaking. My heart broke. I thought of Max. Max would have helped him.

“Do you need some help with that juice sir?” I asked, hoping it wouldn’t offend him.

He nodded, but didn’t look up.

I placed the juice in the basket of the scooter, he thanked me and we went on with our shopping. It always breaks my heart to see our senior citizens becoming frail. I always wonder what lessons I could learn from them and what they dreamed their life would be like.

I collected my last few items to make beef stroganoff and headed to the registers. As I loaded my items on the belt, I noticed the man with the juice behind me. I inched up to give him room. His tremors were even stronger than they had been a few minutes before. He reached toward the items in the cart a couple of times, but the shaking wouldn’t allow him to pick them up.

“Can I put those on the belt for you?”

He nodded.

“Parkinson’s?” I wondered if my question was rude.

“Yes. And I had a stroke.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like much fun.” I knew it was shallow, but I didn’t know what to say.

“It’s not.”

I finished putting his items on the belt. It wasn’t much, but I wondered if he needed help to his car.

He said he would appreciate the help.

“Thank you, now I just have to figure out how to get these into my house.”

“How about if I follow you home and I can take them in your house for you.”

I hoped he didn’t think I was overstepping my boundaries. I didn’t even know his name, yet I found myself compelled to help him. Slowly he nodded.

It was my turn to check out. I glanced sideways to make sure the gentleman’s things were okay on the belt as it moved forward. That’s when I saw it. There was something familiar about his face as he smiled at me.

“Is your name Max?” I half hoped I was wrong, but his smile was unmistakable.

His frail, shaking hands fumbled with his wallet to get his money ready for his turn with the cashier. “Yes.”

I wanted to cry. The last time I saw him he was strong, and while I knew the toll diseases like Parkinson’s takes on people, I definitely didn’t expect such a complete change in his appearance.  

Kim helped Max to his car, and then followed him home and put his groceries in the house for him. She had only known him briefly before he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. She didn’t even know his last name. Still, seeing him so changed by the disease was heartbreaking.

As I thought of this story, it was Kim’s willingness to help someone, even before she knew who they were. Are we aware of needs around us every day? Do we notice when someone is struggling along our path? Or do we pass by, pretending we don’t see them? How often do we run across opportunities to reflect Jesus in someone’s life? How often do we miss it?

Kim’s glimpse into Max’s life exposed the dilemma many of our senior citizens face. Max’s wife passed away. He doesn’t have any children close-by. He spent his whole life helping other people, and now he struggles to even pick up a few groceries. Sure, there are service like meals on wheels and the senior center that provide some help. But who check’s on Max and other seniors like him. Who would know if he fell, or got sick? Kim and I plan to check on Max once in a while and reach out to see if there are some other needs we can meet.

I wish Max’s story was unique. It’s not. Every Day in our Country, aging Americans who were once strong, hard-working, loving, people, try to make it through another day. They push through pain, loneliness and even abuse by society, to get from morning to night. The company they keep often has 4 legs and fur because there is no conditionality on their love.



My mother-in-law at 79

 So what do we do? Stay alert. When you can help someone do it; even if it takes two minutes out of your time. Most of all, please don’t forget our seniors, as the Baby Boomers come of age, we are going to see more aging American’s than ever before. Let’s look for moments when we can make things easier in some small way.

This story reminded me of the Seniors who have been so special in my life. My mom has just barely reached that age, but thankfully she is still able to do things for herself. She and her husband, Ed, recently invited his dear sister to live with them, she is 90. 

My mom and step-dad

My dad worked with seniors in nursing homes and assisted living facilities as an evangelist the whole time I was growing up. I learned the value of silvered hair at a very young age. I lived to far away to help him much as he aged, and went through his final journey, but I'm so thankful for those who were there for him. I was blessed to be able to be here for my mother-in-law in the final years of her life. I treasure the times I was able to learn from her, laugh with her and love her through her final journey.



My dad in WWII



      If you aren’t familiar with Parkinson’s Disease, go here - http://www.parkinson.org/

 

**NOTE: I don’t necessarily recommend going to a stranger’s home and unloading groceries. There are other ways to help…but, if the Holy Spirit leads you in that direction, the safest place to be is in the will of God.