“Moreover it is required in stewards, that a man be found faithful.” —1 Corinthians 4:2
Dearest Daughters,
Last week we talked about setting some clear housekeeping standards, particularly in terms of dishes, laundry, and the spaces we reserve for hospitality.
I think there’s an easy pattern that young mothers (including myself, at one time) often fall into. I’ll call it yo-yo housekeeping.
We know we can’t keep up with the house the way we’d like during a season of little children, so we allow things to pile up. We tell ourselves we’ll get to it later, and then at some point we can no longer stand it. The house feels completely out of control, and suddenly we launch into a cleaning frenzy—every closet, every drawer, every nook and cranny, and probably turmoil for the whole family.
And for a day or two everything feels wonderful. But then life happens again, the children continue being children, and before long we are right back where we started.
I’ve found this to be a fatal method of housekeeping because you spend most of your life feeling behind. The house is either in crisis or in recovery, but seldom at peace.
So what do you do?
I’m speaking particularly to the season when you have lots of little people in the house—little wreckers who seem capable of undoing twenty minutes of work in twenty seconds.
The important thing to realize is that everything doesn’t need to be perfect at all times. What matters is deciding what can and should be accomplished during this particular season of life and becoming consistent with that.
For me, one priority was always the living room. I wanted it to be a place where, if someone knocked on the door unexpectedly, I could happily invite them in without embarrassment. Being hospitable mattered to me because it’s by our love for one another that the world knows we follow Jesus, not by our housekeeping.
Did I expect the toddler’s bedroom to look like the living room all day? Not at all.
The standard I chose for that room in that season was simply this: once each day the room would be clean.
That one decision brought grace to me. Instead of feeling anxious every time I walked into a room strewn with toys, I accepted that children play. There would be messes in the toddler’s room, in the kitchen, and in the schoolroom. But every evening those rooms would once again become orderly.
Helen, you probably remember our nightly clean-up races. We’d gather every toy, tighten the beds, arrange the stuffed animals, and race to see who could finish first. The reward was story time with Mommy or Daddy. Cleaning became part of the family fun and rhythm of the day rather than a dreaded punishment.
I also didn’t expect you children to clean the room the way I would. About once a week I did a more thorough “Mommy cleaning,” and twice a year, usually in the spring and fall, we did a serious deep cleaning: moving furniture, changing seasonal clothes, reorganizing closets, and starting fresh.
The same principle applied to drawers. When I was first married, I wanted every drawer to stay perfectly folded and organized, but if I wanted my children to help put away the laundry, I had to make success attainable. So I lowered the standard without abandoning it.
Drawer dividers became wonderful little teachers. As long as the socks stayed in the sock section, the underwear in its section, and everything ended up in the correct drawer, I considered that a success.
As the children grew, the standard gradually rose. That, I think, is one of the great secrets of homemaking. Better to have a realistic standard and keep it, than no standard at all. Standards can always be raised. But when everything is random, disorder slowly becomes normal, and little by little the whole house begins to unravel. We must view our housekeeping as a journey, always getting closer to the goal.
One lesson that became vitally important to me throughout all my housekeeping years was this: never allow housekeeping and relationships to become opponents. Biblically, relationships are the priority. If we aren’t careful, we can become like Martha—so busy serving that we miss the greatest things. A clean house is important, but it should never come at the expense of the people living inside it.
The first time I truly learned this was while we were doing mission work in Brazil. You oldest three children were still very small. Helen, you were only five, and Blair and Andrew were younger still.
In those days, my method of cleaning was simple. I sent all of you outside to play while I swept, mopped, wiped, and straightened the house. Then, when you came back inside, I found myself scolding, scolding, scolding lest anyone touch what I had just cleaned.
During that season, a dear friend came with us to help while Dad and I were busy with Bible studies and teaching. She wasn’t merely a beloved babysitter; she became a treasured friend.
I began noticing the way she worked with you. She let you wipe windows, even though they often had to be wiped again afterward. She stood you on chairs to help wash dishes, even though an occasional plate still had food clinging to it. We had to wash our laundry by hand, and she would set little Andrew right into the washtub, where he splashed happily among the clothes while she washed.
Those kinds of messes would have made me cringe. But they also filled the house with laughter. Watching this young woman changed me.
Did the house get cleaner because you were “helping”? No. It probably wasn’t as spotless as when I did everything myself. But love was growing; memories were being made. You were learning skills that would stick with you for the rest of your lives. I realized that inviting children into the work of the home is often more important than accomplishing the work perfectly.
This is also why it is so important that we resist judging our friends and sisters by the appearance of their homes. We rarely know what season they are living in. We don’t know what burdens they are carrying, what lessons they are teaching, or what memories they are choosing to make. What may look like disorder to us may actually be a home filled with instruction, laughter, and love.
So when we step into another woman’s home, let us come as servants, not as judges. Let us be quick to encourage, quick to lend a hand, and slow to compare. Grace can strengthen weary hands far more than criticism ever will.
Don’t be discouraged because your home doesn’t yet look like the home of a woman whose youngest child is eighteen. Build the habits that fit today’s season. Be faithful there, and one day you’ll discover that the standards you practiced for years have grown and matured along with your family.
Faithfulness is built one ordinary day and one good habit at a time.
With all my love,
Mom