I stumbled into it. A friend’s mother needed
someone to clean her house weekly and I was willing if I could bring my two
children along. A third child was on the way, but we’d figure that out later. As
long as I worked while Big Bird and Mr. Dressup entertained my kids, it was a
great arrangement and a little extra income. But when the lady of the house
came home one day to see how huge I’d grown and observed me lumbering around
her house, she insisted it was time for mat leave.
A few months after the baby came, I returned
with all three kids in tow and somehow, we made it work. By the time the older
two went off to school, word of mouth had worked its magic. I began taking on
more cleaning jobs and by the time the youngest started school, it was my
career. I cleaned up to eight houses a week plus a couple of offices on the
weekends. It allowed me to finish my workday in time to pick up our kids from
school and stay home with them during school breaks, and for that I felt
grateful. I spent the next ten years scrubbing floors and bathrooms. I once
calculated that I cleaned 600 toilets a year, counting our own.
 |
| My vacuum tracks never looked this perfect. |
Many clients came and went from my roster
during those years, but I found they tended to fall into one of two camps:
housekeeping-challenged families who expressed deep gratitude for anything I
could do to lessen their chaos; and working empty-nesters with more money than
time. I knew this because sometimes when I arrived, I could still see my vacuum
tracks from two weeks before in an unused room!
The best part of this job was imagining my
clients coming home from work to a clean house after a tiring work day. The worst
part was returning home exhausted to my own dirty one. My body began wearing
out.
Though I gave myself pep talks about doing
honorable work with nothing to feel ashamed of, I feared cleaning was all I
would ever be able to do. While I’d been sweeping and dusting, the world around
me had become not only computer-literate but computer-dependent. I prayed about
it a lot. Even though I did not regret this choice because it allowed me to be
there for my kids, I felt trapped.
One day while en route from my morning
client’s house to my afternoon client’s, I stopped for a red light at
Saskatchewan Avenue and Royal Road. I was devouring a sandwich in my car, already
tired and feeling ugly and sweaty in my worn jeans and tee-shirt. And perhaps a
bit lonely. As I waited for the light to turn green, four nicely dressed women
emerged from City Hall and crossed the street together—city staff going out for
lunch, I imagined. I watched them with a little envy.
I think I’d like to work there some day, and NOT as
the janitor. The thought came even though I felt certain it would never
come to pass. The office world where I’d once fit now felt out of reach and I
had neither time nor money to go back to school. God would have to surprise me
if he was going to pull me out of my cleaning lady attire and, more
importantly, my cleaning lady mindset.
I’ll tell you that story next week.
(Meanwhile…if you’re blessed to have a good
cleaning person, please treat them with kindness, dignity, and generosity!)
