My First Experience with a Housekeeper

Last week, I had someone do something amazing for me.

I have a precious friend … she’s someone who I can be completely honest with, show my true colors to, and she loves me and accepts me anyway. More than once while Kris was out of town, I called/texted her and expressed overwhelm for basically everything. The fact that I couldn’t sleep, the pounds I had gained, how difficult it was to manage the kids alone, how much I missed my husband. The emotional burden seemed to have manifested physically in the form of clutter, piles, dirty laundry, the dirt on my floor, the smudges on the counters, the dishes in the sink. I just couldn’t seem to get on top of the housework.

I was drowning.

But last week, something drastically changed. Last week my friend did something to relieve my overwhelm (as if listening to me empathetically and lovingly wasn’t enough!).

She sent a housekeeper to my home.

When she called me to tell me that she’d arranged this, I cried. Like, the high-pitched-voice-snorting-in-the-phone crying and I thanked her as if she’d just handed me six million dollars.

Because that gift was as valuable to me as a six-million-dollar wad of cash.

When the housekeeper showed up at my door, I’d already been trying to condense the clutter into baskets/bins/boxes and whatever empty container/drawer I could find. But still, stuff was everywhere. I was convinced she wouldn’t have anything to clean because there was just. so. much. stuff.

I packed a backpack and took the boys to the library where we had school in a study room. It’s a refreshing change of scenery, anyway. I tried to ignore my anxious thoughts, thinking it would take the poor girl all day to clean my house.

Two hours later, she called me to tell me she was pulling out of the driveway, all done.

“You cleaned my whole house in only two hours?”

I could hear the smile in her voice. “Girl, you talk like your house is impossible right now, but I’m serious when I say, you’ve got this. Your house is totally manageable.”

She proceeded to give me advice right off the top of her head … advice that I absorbed like a sponge, and it clicked in my heart. It made so much sense.

“Pick two rooms that are important to you in your house. Keep those two rooms clean, and be more relaxed with the rest. As far as the clutter that you told me you are drowning in … you’ve already got it into bins. Put away one pile/bin per day, and your house will be flawless in a week.”

I swallowed back the emotion and thanked her over and over.

About an hour later, we were home. I walked into the door to gleaming floors. Pristine countertops. It smelled like she’d even cleaned the air. She even WASHED MY DISHES, Y’ALL.

I took a deep breath, and tears stung my eyes.

Now here’s a side note: When I’m overwhelmed with housework, I don’t wish for someone to help me with the work, or for someone to do it for me. Instead, I find myself wishing for someone to keep the kids while I do my own housework. Because … you’ll think this is crazy … I actually ENJOY it.

Since childhood, I’ve always loved organizing. It’s like a puzzle to me, and I feel like I can breathe easier when everything is neat. It’s not just the “being organized” part that I enjoy … it’s the process of organizing, as well. It’s just something God put in me that is fun. I enjoy organizing so much that, y’all, one of my absolute favorite books is Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. Even the BOOK ITSELF is so beautifully tidy.

I give you permission to sit back and give me the most epic eye roll in the history of eyeballs.

Somehow, though, this scenario was different. My friend said she felt that God led her to do this. She named a day where it was laid on her heart.

I remember that day. It was a day where I stood in my kitchen and cried because my house was such a wreck, it not only made daily life more difficult, but it also heaped stress onto my already hurting heart. I had asked God what to do, and He was silent.

He was silent to me, but He wasn’t silent to her.

My soul was in pain.

That was the day my friend decided she’d like to do this for me.

Something stirred inside of me as I looked around at my newly scrubbed house. I suddenly looked at all the piles of clutter differently. Instead of seeing it as something stealing my oxygen, I saw it as a game. A mission.

I felt the joy of organizing brewing in my spirit.

That very day, I got to work. The boys kept themselves entertained. They played. They got along.

The next day, I woke up three minutes before my alarm feeling excited … after school, the organization continued. I began to look at closets with a lens of possibility. I no longer saw the messes … I saw ideas.

I made bigger messes as I pulled things from shelves, sorted them, and put them back. I pulled open drawers and did the same. I shifted through closets. I bagged up clothes and shoes … NINE trash bags in total … and rolled them down the stairs to the garage, ready for donation.

And I enjoyed every freeing minute of it.

This endured for three solid days, and is still going each day right now.

I’m having a blast, y’all.

It’s so much more than a new inspiration to organize, though. When I called my mom yesterday, something so deep and meaningful struck me. I couldn’t help but shout in the phone at what I’d just realized.