Saturday is usually housecleaning day here, but with all the travel we've been doing lately, it hardly needs it every week. So this was a great time to help some friends who are starting a new season in life. A family with a tragic background, the grandmother had lived in a section of the house, shutting herself off and barely talking to the rest of the family for years. She had recently left, and the bedroom suite she had occupied was filthy, as though she had never made an attempt to clean it. 

Marie, 18, is now settled in the master suite with new paint, clean carpet and new bedroom accessories from her birthday and a modest shopping event to Ikea. But she had one more obstacle to overcome - the bathroom. Most Americans probably haven't had to deal with a bathroom neglected for sixteen years. I can only compare it to the toilet I saw in Ukraine in a 100-year-old orphanage that was shared by 150 orphans.

This is where I thank God for my mother and her thorough cleaning methods. I knew what to do with that bathroom and it had my name on it. After we announced to our good friend Frank that we were on our way over to do battle, I loaded a large basin of my farm wife grandmother's with a host of cleaning rags and sprays and a big bottle of bleach. 

For hours yesterday I stripped layers of crud and hair from the floor of that bathroom, scrubbed huge patches of mold from the shower over and over with mold and mildew remover, wiped down walls, and scoured the toilet inside and out, top to bottom. We took out the sheet of plastic that let in sun from the skylight and dumped the dirt and bugs outside, leaving piles of black paper towels in our wake. I swept out drawers and cabinets and wiped down every inch, sometimes surfaces covered with caked-on dust.

Never mind the question, "How could someone live like that?" The more important question is why anyone would undertake such a project. My husband, daughters, and our friend Robin scrubbed down the kitchen, bought supplies, trimmed curtains and worked until they were exhausted, too. But our mantra was, "We love Frank and Marie." We were erasing the past and letting in the future. They are coming out of darkness into a season of light, and we are so excited to be marching forward with them.

But doesn't God do this and so much more for us? That bathroom is nothing in comparison to what my heart looked like to God when He started on me. Some days it still looks that bad. But he goes on scrubbing. I blush and sometimes fall apart when he uncovers another filthy corner, another disgusting wad of hair, a dead rat in the recesses of my heart. But He doesn't give up because he loves me.

I was reading an Oswald Chambers devotional yesterday that, interestingly enough, talked about our lives no longer being private once God's love has hold of them. God evidently wanted to really drive that point home with me, because my day didn't end there. My Hindu neighbor, who has become a good friend, had invited me to the Hindu New Year's celebration at the temple near our home. I had been looking for the opportunity to connect with her and to show an interest in her faith with the hopes that I could also share mine.

Going to the temple was like stepping out of America and into India. The gorgeous saris the women wore, the incredible smells of the spiced food, the amazing fireworks and the beauty of the temple itself were breathtaking. I asked questions about the Hindu deities and nodded politely, not understanding much of what I heard, and reading translated excerpts from the Bhagavad Gita posted on the walls.

Yup, I guess my life really isn't mine anymore. This week includes training for Orlando parents of troubled teens, a trip to Texas to talk to moms and daughters, and two days later, a two-week stint in Ukraine, our family separated again. I go back and forth between thinking it's a privilege and a virtual impossibility. My faith is still growing. But I remember the bathroom, and I remember God's redemption, and I know that my life has a purpose. Pray that God strengthens our family in the midst of all our "housekeeping," would you? It's an amazing journey, and a small price to pay in comparison … (-=