The Stewards of Our Messes
The messes we leave tell a story about us. Lego pieces and barbie dolls scattered across the family room floor are the happy remainders of a day well-spent in play. Pieces of Scotch Tape left stuck to the ceiling perhaps held balloons and streamers for a child's birthday party. The baked-on crud left on the oven rack might have been the spillover from a casserole hastily thrown in the oven on a busy school night. The smudges on the wall and the stains randomly scattered in cupboards or on baseboards are proof of life. The thin layer of dust on the top of your cabinets is --well, never mind what it actually is, but this too is evidence that your home is a place humming with activity.
Granted, most of us don't hold such a romanticized view of dirt, and grime, and grease. And neither should we. Left alone, a house or an office that is given a pass on cleaning day will grow, quite literally, into a place that is not just unattractive, but actually uninhabitable and even toxic for life. It's no exaggeration to say that if you never clean up after yourself, you won't survive! The dishes will pile up in the sink, the leftover food pieces attracting insects or vermin; the bathroom will become an unusable breeding ground for all manner of bacteria; the floors caked with dirt, dust, and who knows what else will create a health hazard. The messes we leave say a lot about us, but left in place, they are a threat to our wellbeing.
To invite someone into your space, even to clean, is to make yourself vulnerable. Ask a cleaning crew into your home, and you are welcoming a stranger into some of the most personal and even intimate spaces of our life. Hire a cleaning crew, and they will see the trash in our master-bathroom, they will see the confidential papers left out on a desk, or the articles of clothing you forgot to toss in the hamper. And of course, they will see that you aren't as clean as you'd like to think you are. In a strange sort of way, the messes we leave carry with them a strange sort of guilt. A messy house is judged, in Western culture anyways, as a sort of personal imperfection. Perhaps this is why, as Brooklyn pointed out to me, many people feel the need to clean up before the cleaning crew arrives -- it's a form of damage control. Or put another way, it's a way to control how much of our own imperfection that we share with a stranger.
For other folks, the needs are different. A busy young family might hire a cleaning crew so that they don't have to use their free time cleaning, but can instead play a board game, or go for a walk in the park, or finish the homework. A middle-aged couple might hire that same crew because they are simply looking for peace of mind -- knowing that they can come home from a full day at the office, tired, and stressed, but knowing that their sacred space is clean and welcoming. These too are limitations -- though of a different sort. They are the acknowledgment of our own limits -- the young family simply can't do everything, and still have time for each other, and the middle-aged couple can't devote themselves to a job and have the energy to keep the home clean. The need to hire a cleaning crew is an admission that one needs help.
Christians familiar with the New Testament might recognize these two attributes as what St. Paul names as "the Fruit of the Spirit." To be sure, you don't need to be a Christian to be good at cleaning (and just for the record, the phrase, "cleanliness is next to godliness" is not found in the bible!). But perhaps Christians can bring a unique perspective to this work. Cleaning isn't glamorous work -- in fact, it's often seen as low down on the social ladder. The work itself, I came to realize, quite literally brings a person to their knees, doing the dirty work that most of us would rather not do. It's humbling work, work that requires you to steward someone else's messes while they receive the benefits of your labor.
Jesus himself commands his followers to adopt such an approach -- again, those familiar with the New Testament will recognize Paul's admonition in Philippians 2 to take on the attitude of Christ, who himself embodied the difficult calling of servanthood. Jesus was the steward of the greatest mess -- the grime of our sin and hostility, and entering into our weakness, he responded with the utmost love and kindness. To be Christlike is to follow that pattern by serving others. Cleaning the messes of others can become a tangible way of being servant-like.
Cleaners are welcomed into our vulnerable places. They see our underside. They see the messes that we leave that say so much about us -- the stuff that we probably would rather not show to the world. To be invited into that space is a sacred trust -- and it's one that workers like Brooklynn, and her crew, and the Serenity Cleaning company use as an outlet for love and kindness.
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