I am college educated. I graduated with honors, something that was very special to me because I barely made it to high school. I’m the only one of my siblings with a college degree.
I was born into a family of chaos, created by the man of the home, who turned out to be either a sociopath or a psychopath. I honestly can’t tell, because mental illness is rampant on his side of the family.
The home I grew up in, was in the city. It was a nice little, family neighborhood home, with three bedrooms and one bath…pretty typical for that time. I remember moving into the house when I was 3 or 4, and my mother was so excited to be out of a trailer. My room, she excitedly painted bright white…with bright pink decorations, to give me the girl room of her dreams…and I loved it.
It wasn’t long after we moved in that my mother became very sick. So much so, that I often tell people I did not have a mother growing up. She was not able to be a mother. Not allowed.
It is my opinion, and I share it with my brother, that Mr M (who a normal person would call “dad”) tried to kill her with a poison. It left her with a speech impairment and the inability to use her right hand.
She did go back to work, but home life went downhill. Mr M was a hoarder, and he was an abuser of every person in the family in every way. Our house stunk. We couldn’t see the tv for all the boxes piled up in front of it, and we couldn’t sit on a couch without sitting on a pile of books. My nickname at school became “stinkpot”, and that pretty much summed up my home life.
That was 40+ years ago now. The house no longer belongs in the family, and I no longer stink. Although my bedroom could use some help, the rest of my house is pretty clean. My mom lives in a little cottage behind our home, and it is neatly decorated and comfortable to be in.
About a year ago, I decided I needed to work outside the home some. I had tried to be a stay at home mom and I homeschooled my children, but a horrible moment in time came around, and my entire childhood was unearthed. Mr M was caught and went to jail on two felony charges.
To keep my mind healthy, I decided to pick up a few cleaning jobs. Today was cleaning day for this week. I went to two apartments in the same building for people over the age of 60.
It is extremely hard for me to charge a widow or a single elderly lady, so I’ve worked out different arrangements for each lady that are totally against my cleaning policy, but I really just love to sit and talk with them, and I can’t charge for talking…even if I do get some cleaning done. I think it’s healing for us all.
The first lady met me in the apartment lobby one day. She rarely leaves her apartment but that day she was in the lobby. I lost her name and number but I was able to locate her through residents there within a week.
Her background has many similarities as mine, so we often share our struggles and our successes and our love for our Creator. She calls me her “little cleaning lady” who barely takes money. She has become a dear friend, and my $25 hour fee drops to $20 total for 2-3 hours.
I also clean for a lady from church. I refuse to be paid by her, because I know enough to know she doesn’t have very much money. She just about fired me because I refused payment, but we worked out a deal for her to donate to our local Christian School as able instead.
She is dying. We are all dying I suppose, but her time is winding down rapidly now. I don’t know how many more times I will be able to clean for her. She took a medicine in shot form this past spring that started the death of her intestines. There is no cure. Her abdomen is swollen and she’s in pain daily. However, she refuses to complain. She loves to talk about heaven and she can’t wait to get there so she can sing praises to the Lord. She knows where she is going, and she is not afraid. She’s longing for her new forever home.
I do a lot of thinking while I clean. I’m almost 50 years old, (with a college degree,) and here I am cleaning houses. It is not how I pictured my adult life, but it actually brings me much needed healing.
There’s something about making clean something that is very dirty. Maybe that’s why my Heavenly Father loves to teach me in the New Testament that Christ’s blood cleanses us from our sins so we can have that hope of eternity in heaven with Him someday. Maybe that’s why He tells us our sins must be washed away…removing the dirt of sin.
I long for heaven. But today the Lord needs me here. My childhood comes back to haunt me regularly but as long as I stay busy and focused, I stay happy.
Preacher’s Wife 