I have been living in my parents house for the last four months. It's been a perfect place for me to transition, and I was able to house sit for my parents while they were finishing up work and transitioning into retirement. They officially moved up today, 12/21/12, the day the world was supposed to end. Ironic, right? I thought so.
Normally I am a fairly lax house keeper. I don't mind a meal or two of dishes lying in the sink. If I forget my laundry in the dryer a night or two, oh, well, I won't run out of clean socks or underwear. I like things clean, but cluttered is not a problem. My mom calls it piling. I like piles. Very organized, systematic piles. I know where everything is and I like it that way. My mom likes to remind me that when I was 8 she pulled me into my cluttered room one day and asked, "Julie! This room is a mess!! What does this room say about you?!?" And in all my innocence I responded, "It says I am a very creative person who has been things to do with my time than clean my room."
Of course I am not living in my own house. I have been very conscious of that the entire time I have lived here. And as such, have been keeping it impeccable. Partly because I never knew when my parents would show up. They came up several times in the fall for visits or just to get away. I wanted to show them how appreciative I was that I could stay in their house while I was transitioning. While I've been here, especially the last few weeks before their move up, the dishes are always done, the bathrooms sparking, and there are constant vacuum lines in the living room carpet (my mom loves vacuum lines in the carpets) just in the event of a surprise visit from the rents. Today in preparation of their arrival I made sure absolutely everything was in order. No clutter of my own in the living room. No dirty dishes in the sink. No excess shoes strewn by the door. Vacuum lines properly in place.
With the monumental date of 12/21/12 coming up and unlikely impending doom, it also sparked a thought in my head: Am I living my life in such a way that regardless of when Jesus comes back I'm ready for his arrival? Am I keeping my "house", my "life", clean and in order? Will he find me being a good housekeeper and steward of what he's given me? What if the world really had ended today and Jesus came triumphantly marching in to take us home? What would our reaction be? "Oh, snap!! Shoot!! WAIT!! I'm not ready yet!! Sorry about the trash in my mouth and the dirt of hidden secrets swept under the rug of my heart" or "YES!! Here I am!! I'm ready!!"? Just a thought.
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