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I’d like to share more of my writing: my latest post in my column Mothering Heights.

Love in the Time of Housework

On the eve of my birthday, two hours into Black Saturday, I am scrubbing the bathroom walls and washing the shower curtain. The chore is not an act of penitence; I cannot improve on Christ’s finished and complete work on the Cross. Rather, the chore is among the countless others that breed daily in our nanny-less household.

I try to find beauty in housework—it is the only way I can stomach it. I wonder if Jesus had to do housework. In the 30 years before he launched into the world, he must’ve done housework. He was a carpenter; he must have had to file his tools, stack wood, sweep away shavings, wash the floors. Perhaps his housework was also his form of service. Perhaps the work of his hands was human, but his thoughts were divine. Towards the end of his earth journey, he said, “I have brought you glory on earth by finishing the work you gave me to do” (John 17:4).

Read the rest of my post here.

Photo credit: L’imaginarium de Magiejacynthe

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