I Washed Dishes With Just One Hand

I grew up thinking my mom’s house was the model for clean.  I recall her doing house chores when I was a rug-rat.  I remember my parents telling me to go clean my room and make my bed.  I recollect my dad’s concern that the inside of the dish be as clean as the outside.

Yeah.  We were clean-livin’ people.

I am the clean-freak in my family now.  Not that we live all that clean, really, but I am sure all those living in this house would agree that I am the main driving force for cleanliness and neatness.  And I think of my mom as my role model.  She kept a clean home, and now I strive for that too.

Yeah.  We are clean-livin’ people.

But I did dishes with a 4-month-old in one arm the other night.  Now, that’s a trick!  But our house is bombed out in child-care since we took in foster kids.  And… well… it needed done, and this was the only way to do it.

I think I wasn’t as thorough as usual.

And seeing how I am as old now as my grandparents were when I was born, I look back to my mom in my heart and my mind for comfort and guidance, and I see a kid with a baby washing dishes with one hand and I think: She wasn’t nearly as clean as I thought she was!

I miss my mom tonight, may she rest in peace.  But I just put that little angel down to sleep for the second time tonight, and I find myself giving to her what my mom gave to me.

LOVE

… in a home cleaned with one hand.

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