A Clean Toilet and A Cleaner Conscience

Ok, so here's the thing- it's late January already and like (hopefully) most of the rest of y'all, I'm already struggling to keep some of the resolutions I made for 2016. 

Except for daily yoga/exercise. I MADE A POINT not to resolve to increase my levels of physical activity this year, BECAUSE TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE. I know that right now, in this season of life I'm living, waking up even earlier than I already do to do yoga on my cold living room floor or staying up late to do a YouTube "Dance Your Pounds Away" channel is not, and will not be happening. So instead of making unattainable goals for myself that I'm doomed not to achieve and thus feel massive amounts of guilt about, I decided to break with the "Get Fit This Year" tradition and only set goals for myself that I MAY ACTUALLY WANT TO ACHIEVE. Maybe 2017 will be the year I can finally touch my toes while doing a basic forward fold, BUT IT AIN'T GONNA BE NOW. Namaste, y'all. 

Before I set goals for this new year, I thought about what I wanted 2016 to be for me that maybe 2015 wasn't. And the main thing I pinpointed was peace. I live and teach and work in a house that's filled with three rowdy young kids. IT CAN BE STRESSFUL. I'm amazed at how quickly things can disentigrate when a kindergartener, preschooler and toddler join forces. It can happen at lightning speed. They've got a gift for losing toys and breaking crayons  and covering flat surfaces with unidentifiable sticky substances. 

And most of the time, things like this happen when I'm distracted. OF COURSE. When I'm on a phone call with the dentist  or paying bills or unloading the dishwasher- they spring into action. Toys are dumped, skirmishes are fought and somehow the dog gets locked in a closet. These are distractions that are a normal, natural, necessary part of my day. I can, and should, and do manage to handle them appropriately. It's the unnecessary, unimportant, frivolous distractions that become my Achiles heel. 

I'm talking about Pinterest. And Instagram. And Facebook. And texting. 
::gulp:: 
GUILTY. 

I recently lost a valiant battle with a frozen turkey that has left me sporting a stylish air cast boot and a foot that throbs constantly by 3pm each day. I've been trying to stay off it as much as I realistically can, and to elevate it on the couch while I teach Luke, and when I can stop and take breaks to get off it, it does feel better. But sometimes, taking breaks is the LAST thing I need to do. Because sitting down for 10 minutes, turning Netflix on for the kids and reaching for my phone is the worst possible thing I can do for the (mostly) peaceful climate in my house. 

Because the second I sit down and distract myself with Pinterest, I'm not 100% focused on what's going on in my living room, right in front of me, five feet from the end of my air cast boot. I get sucked into links to fifteen different crock pot recipes I know I'll never cook and tune out to the fact that my youngest who is 2, just uncapped 17 Crayola markers. What should have been a 10 minute break somehow turns into two back-to-back episodes of Curious George and has left me flustered and frustrated and frazzled with my kids. I've wasted time looking at mason jar bathroom organization while my kids have emptied our toy chest and dumped out every box of Legos we own. The two oldest are fighting over who-knows-what, and my youngest has covered my coffee table in black and green and red washable (hallelujah!) markers. I slam my phone down and start barking orders, cutting down defenses and mowing through the mound of crying kids and scattered princess accessories. I'm left feeling angry and hot tempered and guilty over the way I've lost my temper yelling at the kids about the mess they've made. I HATE THAT.

I shouldn't be like this. And Paul knows all about it. In his first letter to Timothy, he talks about how widows/young wives should conduct themselves. 

"...and at the same time they also learn to be idle, as they go around from house to house; and not merely idle, but also gossips and busybodies, talking about things not proper to mention. Therefore, I want younger widows to get married, bear children, keep house, and give the enemy no occasion for reproach for some have already turned aside to follow Satan." Paul, 1 Timothy 5:13-15

When I sit down and become needlessly distracted and my kids turn my living room upside down and then I lose my mind about it, I'm giving Satan a foothold in my house. I'm willingly allowing a climate of stress and strife to grow instead of working hard to produce peacefulness and brotherly kindness. 

How much better my days run when I purposefully park my phone on top of my planner AND LEAVE IT THERE on the bookshelf from the hours of 7:00am-7:00pm. When I take a 10 minute break to put my foot up but use it to snuggle the kids and read a book or play the 1000th round of Spot It. When I devote those spare few moments of idle time to wiping down bathroom counters or matching up socks or picking up lost blankets. Bedtime rolls around and the sinks are toothpaste free, the floor of the living room is ACTUALLY visible and there are no last minute, tear filled, frantic searches for Lamby or penguin blankets or stuffed kittens. 

I'm grateful Paul's warnings against idleness. I see it as a reminder that Satan can try and use any weakness to expose me to sinfulness. That, as a distracted and stressed out and hot tempered Mom I am working against all the qualities I should be instilling in my house. If 'keeping my house' is going to keep me out of trouble, then I can see how cleaning a toilet or scrubbing dried peanut butter off a kitchen chair or refilling soap dispensers is a holy exercise. It keeps me focused on the things that are most important, my home and the souls that live within it. 

And that's a resolution worth keeping.