Office of Communications > Weekly Reflection >March 28, 2008

One thing about living in an old house is that it is a constant reminder of the uncertainty of life.  There is no false security when a hairline crack in the foundation can suddenly open like the New Madrid fault after a winter of freezes and thaws.  Water from a spring monsoon will find it quicker than a TV preacher can reach your wallet.

And so, a few days before the kids came home for Easter eggs and roasted lamb, the downstairs took on a lake-like look.  It wasn’t as bad as when one of the boys left the water running and created an indoor wave pool, but it was a wetland worthy of the Corps of Engineers.

I spent hours over those days, vacuuming the endless flow, emptying bucket after bucket of the invading stream.  Back and forth, time after time, in repetitive motions of futility with the only goal of trying to get things back to the way they were.  I found myself angry and frustrated at this claim on my time.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault and, after watching rivers swallow home after home, I couldn’t feel sorry for myself.  Besides, so much of life is similar, spent in doing, not what we want, but what is required.  From minimum wage migrant work to a mother’s midnight housecleaning, it is hard to find some lasting treasure in a field of musts and have tos.

We all want something more -- something to give and something to be remembered by.  We dream of feeding the hungry, curing cancer, or somehow leaving a mark on the world, but we end up scrubbing the bathroom, changing the oil, and working an anonymous job. 

Maybe it’s not about what we do but how we do it – accepting the demand of the moment; hoping that it benefits another; and trusting that, while things are not going according to my plan, they are a part of Someone’s. 

 It’s supposed to rain tonight, so I may have more time to think about this.