I was vacuuming the carpet, lost in a tangle of circling thoughts, as I have been lately. The sun had lit a piece of the carpet into glowing jewel colors and the vacuum was cutting a swath of clear color through the dust.
I was cutting some clarity through my surroundings, but my thoughts were traveling the same weary path as before- if only that, if only this. What I would say, or do again. Or maybe not. And this other thing I forgot to say.
Then like a waft of air from an open door somewhere, I remember my old practice of doing everything for the love of Jesus. I had put that away, lately, for what seemed more pressing, urgent jobs.
I put the whole tangle of my chewed-up, going nowhere thoughts down and say simply, "For love of You," and offer up the moment, just as it is.
For love of You I am doing housework, I am preparing to welcome guests, to celebrate my daughter's birth, her life, this precious gift of her life and the time we have to spend with her. Now she is one year old, and for love of You and for love of her, I am vacuuming.
I love You, Jesus replies, His quite voice like sunlight in my spirit, illuminating what had been dusty inside me.
"We're throwing a party, You should come," I say, struck with the childlike pleasure of formally inviting Jesus.
I'll be there, He replies, and though I cannot see Him just then, I know the smile in His voice.
"I love You," I tell Him.
You were made for this.
"For doing housework and inviting You to parties?" I ask, playfully.
For loving Me, Jesus replies.
And that is more than enough and always, no matter what else I am doing.