Whistle While I Work.

Sometimes I think cleaning is the epitome of childhood and not growing up. I clean to make myself feel like an adult, but even that statement admits that I don’t know how to adult. Cleaning is not a natural function I possess, and whether it’s my mom, my older sister, or myself, someone has to force me to clean. Cleaning is this idea of having it together because when I was younger my mom put a premium on cleaning. Sure, that premium was often put in the corner and left to dust, but cleaning was important. Normal people cleaned, dammit.

morenormal

Even the act of cleaning reminds me of being a child. Wash the dishes first. Rinse them off second. Dry the dishes third. Put the dishes away forth. Everything is standard and methodical, broken down into little accomplishable steps. And there’s this creepy satisfaction of not just owning belongings but also having a place to put them. These are mine and I know where they go—a certain sign of brainwashing the next generation. I know. I worked in a preschool for five months. “And where does that go?” was a staple in my vernacular, as if those little terrorists held the key to that object existence.

piranha

There’s this feeling that surrounds cleaning, at least for me. I can’t quite describe it succinctly, but it’s like when a three year old wants to help you bake cookies. The hell you’re going to let them just pop the pan in the oven. Suddenly, you’re like, “Can you get my two eggs? One- two. Don’t fall of the stool!” I feel like I’m asking God, “Can I adult too?” and he’s like, “Can you put all the clean cups away? Don’t fall off the stool!”

I think I have this feeling now that I’m getting older that adulthood means something else. If I can accomplish keeping a household and still feel like an overgrown kid, than adulthood is something else. It’s doctoral degrees and raising kids and travelling the world and owning a horse. I don’t know—which is the root of a lot of frustration because I genuinely don’t know. I feel like I’m playing a really long video game. I unlock the achievements, find the secret ways to beat the castle, and collect all the coins. I’m chugging along but that ho princess is always in a different castle.

optimism

This is the part where someone tells me that adulthood is not a destination. It’s a journey.

thankyou

Thank you, but I’d really like to feel validation within this journey because mostly I feel like I’m lost and wandering around like the village idiot. I don’t even know what God wants from me anymore. I’m not that person who is blessed with a clear vision of God’s purpose for me in my life. I don’t know what goal I’m aiming for. I let the cannon shout me out into the sky, and now I’m just catching the breeze as I free fall to wherever it is God’s going to have me land. Yes, it’s kind of scary. Trusting God can feel scary. I know that’s wrong. I should have peace and comfort in God. I want that, but honesty clause: I’m still a little scared most of the time. I pray, anywhere and anytime, that whatever it is that I’m doing is pointing to Him. In a good way. I can only hope that what I’m doing is a beacon of light towards Christ.

Until divine revelation pops me in the back of the head, I’m going to vacuum and hang up my nice clothes in the closet and I’m going to praise God while I do it. Faith like a child, right?

doubtfire cleaning

P.S. If you think I’m not impressed with myself for using vernacular and succinctly in this sentence, you don’t even know me.

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