The Art of a Deep Breath

Hi. My name is Billie Jo.  And I may have some OCD tendencies.  (I can hear my mom snort and say "May?" as she reads this.)

Pre-kids, I had it.  I had it bad.  Of course I denied it to myself as I wiped the bathroom counter down every morning.  As child after child has been born, I have had to learn to let more and more things go.  And as those babies grew into toddlers.  I let more.  My bathrooms does not sparkle the same way it use to.  There are dirty dishes in my kitchen sink more than there aren't.  Try as I may, my floors have a little sticky spot or grit more than I care to admit.  And the laundry.  Don't even get me started on the laundry...

Those toddlers have grown into boys and with boys come dirt.  After all, the definition of a boy is a noise with dirt on it.  Part of me knows those boys are old enough to help.  But let's be honest, what 5, 7 or 10 year old boy can clean as well as mom?  They won't do it as well as me.  They might make a bigger mess in the process.  I don't want to fight with them about it.  I could make a laundry list of excuses to not let or make them help, but as I mentioned, I already have PLENTY of laundry to do.

But by not letting them help, who am I serving?  Who am I allowing them to serve?  The list is pretty short and my name seems to be the only one on the list.  When I take the patience, the time, the patience, the energy and the patience to help them help me, I get to serve them now, and in the future. I am serving their future roommates, families and co-workers.  I am serving God by helping shape men who will know how to serve others.  And don't forget, I am serving me in the future!

If I allow it, I can find the me of today being served.  If I can learn to get past the fact that that's not the way I would do it or accept that even if it isn't spotless, it's cleaner than it was, I can find myself being served by my children.

That's why today when Ray was vacuuming the entry way and flipping rugs over to get their undersides and I could hear the dirt skitter across then entry way, I resisted the urge to snatch the hose from him and do it myself.  Instead, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a minute before I turned to him and smiled.  "Thanks for helping Ray."

And in that choice, in that deep breath, I found not only did future me get served, but so did present me.