Andy and I went and worked two hours in the free house today. I had made a goal last time to make a path down the hallway to the front door and I succeeded!! This past weekend Andy worked miracles in the basement and today he made a big dent in the bathroom and came behind me with a deeper cleaning in the first part of the hallway. I put on the “Elevation Worship” station on my music app, Andy got lights and a fan plugged in and with him working close by, I did not feel the oppression that I felt last time I was in there.

As I dug through layer after layer of rotting newspapers, mildewy clothes, ratty Christmas ornaments, I felt like the house was telling the story of someone who was paralyzed by life. So many things to organize, so many things to clean, so many belongings to care for. I came across packages of garbage bags, opened, ready to be put to use, but then abandoned. I found boxes of cleaning supplies, long past their useful shelf-life, bags of newspapers, ready to be taken somewhere, but then never moved. Picture evidence of good intentions, never able to be seen through.

This morning I woke up before my alarm went off. Made muffins for the family before anyone was awake. Sat and had my devotions and a nice cup of tea. I helped kids get up, get themselves organized, helped pack lunches. Got everyone out the door on time and I was dressed and ready to go and tackle some cleaning next door. Can I tell you, this is not my norm. I would say my days are about 50/50. Some days I wake up and I’m ready to tackle the world. Other days I wake up and I can’t do anything. Getting dressed feels like labor, I forget about morning devotions even being a thing, I count heavily on my children being able to take care of themselves, and after doing the bare minimum I get glued to my chair and I can’t move. Sometimes, after a couple hours, the panic of undone tasks will finally kick me into gear and I’ll go into hyper-efficient mode, and still manage to get the things done before the end of the day. But some days, thankfully not too often, I will text my husband and tell him, this is going to be a Non-Day, I will keep the kids alive, but that’s about it.

This is my life, and I am someone who is surrounded by support systems. My husband is supportive, he knows my struggle with depression and when I tell him it’s a non-day, he always answers cheerfully to just rest and how can he help? My kids do their chores with very little fuss, and if I am out of commission, they are all capable of keeping the house running. My church is a phone call away, ready to pray or offer encouragement, or physical help if the need arises. I am able to go to church every week and spend time in God’s presence in worship, and hear God’s word. I have friends I can text or message. I can put on Facebook that I need prayer and eighty people will answer me that they are praying and offer words of encouragement. I am a well-supported person, any rescue I need is always readily available. Talk about being a wealthy person!

I think about my neighbor. As far as I can tell, her social circle was very small. Her significant other passed away years ago, and she never had any children. She wasn’t involved in any faith communities. But, her brother is still living, and five years ago, he convinced her to leave and go and live with him. And I am so thankful that she received her rescue.

While I was cleaning I had the praise music blasting, and the song “Graves Into Gardens” by Brandon Lake and Elevation Worship came on. One stanza really stood out to me, as I slowly turned chaos into order, rescuing the house one garbage bag at a time;

You turn graves into gardens
You turn bones into armies
You turn seas into highways
You’re the only one who can
You’re the only who can