I find great solace in the fact that no matter where I am, no matter what home I live in, no matter how little or how much money I have, no matter what happens in life, some things always stay the same. It's those mundane things that remain the same no matter what. Food must be prepared. Children cared for. Laundry done. The house cleaned. This is where the magic happens. In those quiet moments hidden away from the rest of the world.
I have had much change in my life. It's been the soundtrack to my life story. It is not something I enjoy or even thrive in, but I have learned to adapt and be thankful no matter what circumstance I find myself in. I think because very little has been constant in my life, I have learned to love the things that are stable all the more. The mundane. I don't even like using that word because I feel like it does not do justice to the tasks that it describes. Mundane seems to paint the picture of drudgery, of nothing exciting happening, of things always being the same. Yet, the mundane has become something magical to me. Something sacred. Something beautiful. The solace so desperately needed for my soul.
Whether it's washing clothes in the Philippines and drying them on the line, or toting my laundry basket down to the laundry room in my apartment building, or washing clothes at a friend's house because I didn't have a machine myself, or loading my washing machine every day in the comfort of my own home - these rhythms and tasks have become a beautiful common thread throughout the changes of life.
Whether I live on minimum wage or a six figure income, the routine of making bread every week brings beauty and joy. There is something so therapeutic in kneading the dough and letting it rise on the counter top next to a candle burning. It can be done in the smallest apartment or largest kitchen - the result is the same. Freshly made bread with butter melting down the sides of a slice tastes just as good regardless of where it is consumed or what is happening around us at that time.
Schoolbooks poured over, penmanship practiced, spelling words recited, math concepts learned - it all brings the same rhythm to our days and no matter the size of our house or our set up, schooling seems to always happen around our kitchen table. Which brings me to one of the most sacred pieces of furniture, the kitchen table. This is the heart of the home and family life, I believe. Countless meals have been served and eaten around it, art happens multiple times a day on it, school is done, the sewing machine gets set up and wonderful creations appear or old clothes remade. We have had many kitchen tables over the years in all the different homes we have lived in, but they have all served the same purpose - the central piece of the home for gathering. If I had to choose between a couch and a table, I would always choose the table. We have had many hand-me-down tables and chairs over the years and currently have a foldable plastic one. What they are or what they look like are not important, it's the life that happens around them that builds the foundations of home.
No matter what type of home you live in, the upkeep of it will tune your heart to thankfulness and will dust your mind free of mental cobwebs. Whether your feelings are from personal situations beyond your control or the feelings of helplessness on a larger scale, I have found nothing to be so helpful as a clean house to set all things right again. When there are things bigger than I can carry or fix, be it finances, relationships, parenting struggles, or any number of larger issues, it does my heart and mind both good to find something to maintain within my control. Finding things for my hands to do helps when my mind is playing mental gymnastics and my heart is heavy. A floor swept, a letter written, cookies baked for a friend or my own family, reading a chapter of a book to the children, crocheting, embroidering, or tackling a house project that has been waiting for a spare moment. These things bring my mind back to the present and to what I can do with what I have, where I am, instead of dwelling on all the things I can't.
This homemaking drudgery, as some may call it, are the sacred rituals of my day. It's in the business of my hands when prayers are most often uttered, songs are sung, my heart and mind quieted, my spirit refreshed. The simplest of tasks have become an anchor to my soul to cling to. A constant in a world adrift. I hope that the next time you put bread dough to rise, sweep your kitchen floor, wash another sink of soapy dishes, or do another unseen task - you see that here in your home, God has given you all the things you need to thrive and care for your heart so well.