Inspired by the Father…

We’ve lived in our house for two years now and the feeling of “new” has slipped from my grasp--slowly but surely over time. The smell of new carpet and drywall compound used to greet me when I walked through the door, but that left some time ago along with the smell of fresh paint.

Picking up after four children has caused me to wonder how my grandma ever survived being the mother of eighteen children, and how my mom ever managed her six. It seems that I just get the house cleaned, finish mopping the floor, and “swoosh” a jug of Kool-Aid comes racing across the room like a tidal wave washing away a small village.

My husband suggested a maid service--bless his heart. He said that I could use some help around the house and suggested I give them a try. Some call it “maid service,” but I call them feather dusters, because as I see it, if the feather dusters come through the house on a Friday, I need to have the house cleaned on Thursday night before they get there or they won’t even find the house for the laundry.

“Why don’t you get Dad?” my mom suggested. “He’s a good cleaner.”

I hadn’t considered my Dad. In fact he’s probably the last person I’d consider to clean my house, but the truth is, he’s also the best. So after further consideration and a phone call, Dad showed up at 9 am with mop in hand, determined to get the house clean.

My Dad has never been one to shy away from dirt; in fact when Dad walks into a room, the dirt cowers, because it knows the furniture is getting pulled away from the walls, and that no pillow will be left unturned.

At 9:15, the fridge and stove both rolled into the center of the kitchen while Dad shoveled Thanksgiving Dinner 2005 off the floor. I made my way to the kid’s bathroom with determination in one hand and Vim in the other.

Unfortunately since we returned from vacation any level of determination I’ve used has not been sufficient to whiten our toilet. It’s a story I shouldn’t get into detail about, so I’ll just warn the obvious: ensure that all toilets are flushed before going away for any period of time, especially if the little one has a tummy ache that morning.

After scrubbing for a good ten minutes, I went back to the kitchen announcing to Dad that I was going to have to buy a new toilet. “The finish must be ruined on this one,” I said. “No matter how much I scrub it or soak it, it just won’t come clean.”

Dad went straight to the washroom, looked down at the mess and without hesitation said, “Ok, get me a cup, I’ll clean it.”

A cup? I wondered, How is he going to clean it with a cup?

He bailed the water out of the toilet till all that was left was a dirty porcelain dish; then he proceeded to clean it with an SOS pad—clever.

As I walked back to the kitchen to mop up the floor, I smiled in awe of the servanthood of my father. The tagline I use at my website is “Inspired by the Father every step of the way…” because the life of my earthly father has been instrumental in showing me the kindness of my Heavenly Father, and through it I’m inspired to press on.

There was a time in my life that I don’t talk about too often because of the shame. I was married young and divorced. Sure I had reason to leave because of physical and mental abuse, but the guilt and shame of remarriage stayed strong in my life for ten years. I lost five babies to miscarriage and blamed myself, saying that God was punishing me for my sins. Divorce wasn’t something I did. It was something, and always will be something I am.

Like my house, that feeling of “new” had slipped from my grasp--slowly but surely over time. The look of innocence used to greet me when I looked in the mirror, but someone I didn’t want to face had replaced her somehow.

I met a few feather dusters throughout the years who made me feel good for a day or a week with empty words and flattering lips, but they never could remove the shame of sin that had become a solid wall between God and I.

I couldn’t accept forgiveness because I couldn’t turn back that which was done. So I lived in darkness and unforgiveness for ten years until I finally repented and accepted that Jesus took the punishment for that sin.

Through my experience, I learned one thing. There’s no sin that the Father isn’t able to clean, no matter how dirty or disgusting it might seem. He may be the last person that you want to let in, but to tell you the truth--He’s the best.

Sin cowers when God steps into your life because it knows that there won’t be a stone left unturned that God isn’t going to clean. He doesn’t shy away from sin and He doesn’t shy away from us.

The difference with me today is that I do my best to follow what I know to be right and wrong, because I choose to follow His will for my life. God will clean up our sin, but it’s up to us to respect Him enough to keep it that way.

So there you have it, the “dinner 2005” that’s been hiding behind my stove. With determination in one hand and understanding in the other, I’m finding paths I would otherwise never have found through joy and forgiveness and grace. Just a girl on a journey--inspired by the Father every step of the way…

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9