Holy Order

Somewhere at the beginning of my career as a mother, I imagined a world that was perfect. This eden within my mind is vital to my children's future, for without this vision, I am merely raising mediocre children to partake in mediocre destinies.

Fortunately for them, my idea of achieving perfection stretches no further than present time, and requires only an ability to tune out distraction and tune in with clarity. Basically, I want my children to hear God when He speaks.

I provide no religious instruction as of yet, since discovery is the most delicious part of the feast. But quietly, I lay the path before them, daily walking my faith without proclamation. My rituals are centered in the home, and are the literal embodiment of:

"Cleanliness is next to godliness" and

"Order within, order without" (and vice versa).

For this reason, I have worked steadfastly this past week clearing and cleaning my basement. The lowermost floor of my home, though the walls are unsheetrocked and the floors unlaid, it's clutter free, everything in its appropriate place. It is so significant an achievement, the space set deepest in the ground, where roots draw nourishment and stabilize the structures above.

I almost felt as if I were preparing for doomsday. It honestly scared me for a second, as I noticed the last items I had to put into place, hanging ominously by the stairs---a black nylon dress and a red Christmas cardigan. I'd actually prepared my world for its final days, all the way up to my burial garment.

In the same blink, thank God, I realized the outfit was identical to one a teacher would wear. This was precisely the intention I'd set while making my basement changes. I sense something bigger though, so generously do I trust God to keep up His end of the details.

Order within, order without. Our roof is beginning its reshingling, weathered gray steadily deepening into a heather. Changes without, changes within. And so it is.