Good Enough: Notes from Home

sunday school

[Too much trouble to carry on and do the head too.]

This morning I’ve got to get going and hie myself off to church for a variety of tasks, like cleaning my own Sunday school room and cleaning up the other Sunday school rooms that I discombobulated over the week by letting children go in and by myself going in them.

I’m always wandering around looking for stuff–all kinds of stuff. More white paper, matches, a better box of crayons, glue sticks. All the things that if I had my act together I would see were running low and would replenish Before the Sunday school hour starts. But I never do–have my act together I mean.

There’s something sort of evil, in my mind, about going to church to work over there when my own house is discombobulated by the wreckage of life, the same going around in a circle looking for things. Like, a good housekeeper has her own house kept, or whatever, and doesn’t go clean other things when her own thing isn’t clean. But that would mean never going anywhere and doing anything. I have to walk out of here leaving a trail of clutter behind me, piles of laundry and papers all over the floor, or we will become home bound. The house would never be Clean Enough.

Children and Men don’t seem to have this hang up. They are happy to leave any room or task and go on to the next one without pausing to pick anything up. ‘Why not go over to the church for the day when the house is completely wrecked? It will still be here when you get back.’
To which I reply, ‘Exactly.’

One of the dreams I have is that when my children leave home, they will know how to do a task all the way. Like, make a bed All the Way. Or clean the kitchen until it’s actually clean. Or clean the bathroom so that it’s half clean and there are pile of shoes in the corner. Or, when picking up the school room, not falling short of emptying the bin. I am forever going from room to room and saying to anyone who will listen, ‘This isn’t Done. There are five things still on the floor.’ And then the child feigns competence and says, ‘I was just coming to pick them up just now.’

This is why the job of the High Priest would have been such a drag. As soon as he had done one sacrifice, say on the Day of Atonement, he would have to turn around and do it again the next time. There’s no finishing anything in this life, no It Is Finished. The most I’m allowed to say is Good Enough, and then a few moments later, For Now.

Don’t fret yourself. This week I read no books, I cooked no meals, I did no laundry, and when it came to standing up from sitting on the couch I didn’t do that either. So you are spared any thoughts about any of those things. May God have mercy on my soul.

Pip pip.

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