The Gift of Housework that Takes Me Down Memory Lane

I've never hired household help and have never wanted it. I'm uncomfortable with people fussing around while I'm home, so I'd rather do it myself. Does anyone actually like housecleaning? Probably not, but it's an opportunity to pick up a pin for the love of Christ, the little way of St. Therese. So I look for ways to turn a never-ending chore into a garden of delight.

Yesterday as I was cleaning the living room which doubles as my little chapel, my mind turned to all the memories that fill that room and make dusting and vacuuming not a burden, but a joy. So many family members, teachers and friends sit and chat in spirit with me as I work. What a walk down memory lane. Want to join me? 

I imagine my Aunt Dorothy, my dad's sister, sitting on the sofa where the circle afghan she made decorates its back. She crocheted one for each of my children and they mostly migrated to my house along the way. No complaints from me; I love them! I also have several other needlework projects that my cousin sent after Aunt Dorothy died. What a talented lady, always cheerful, with a laugh that could light up a ballroom. Many Christmases she sent a letter with family memories along with a little ornament for the tree. Thank you, Aunt Dorothy, for all the gifts and all the memories.

Then there is the lovely blanket, a gift to my husband on his retirement from the Marine Corps Systems Command in Quantico, VA in 2002. The memory of those days always makes me laugh. We had moved out to Woodstock after his retirement, but the General wanted him to return as a consultant since he had just taken over and thought it would help with the transition. But it was a two-hour commute one way. Four hours every day back and forth? No way! I wanted him to live to enjoy retirement.

We talked about it and I suggested he should only do it if he could work a 40-hour week Monday through Thursday and stay with our children, coming home for long weekends. So he alternated weeks between our daughter in Fredericksburg and our son in Manassas for about six months. Our son-in-law, an active duty Marine working at Quantico, had an associate ask if we were having marital problems since Larry was staying with them. We both laughed about it and said, "That's how rumors get started."  

Working my way around the room with the duster I stopped to say a prayer before the icon our son brought back for us from a business trip to Russia. And then I dusted and kissed the relics given to us by a priest friend: St. Maria Goretti, St. Vincent de Paul, St. Jean Vianney, St. Therese, pray for us. I sometimes kneel there which is another memory since my blog partner, Susan, gifted me the prie dieux when I visited her in Florida. 

So many other memories too. The lovely sculpture of a tree, a park bench, and a lamppost from one of our daughters. It reminds me of Mr. Tumnus from Narnia so I added a little girl building a snowman as Lucy and a beautiful glass fir tree I picked up when we visited Larry's sister in Cambridge, OH and went to the local glass factory. I still remember with delight the tour to see how the glassblowers made the beautiful items for sale in the gift shop. How could I not bring back a souvenir from that amazing tour.

As I dust the doll cabinet I'm almost overwhelmed with memories. So many gifts from my parents. My mom loved my dolls and continually added to my collection. Daddy would bring me back dolls from the various countries he went to on business. There are reminders of vacation trips visiting thrift stores where I found little friends to join the throng. I picked up a vintage doll at the gift shop at my sister's nursing home. It reminds me of our jaunts from the third floor down to the lobby when she was more mobile.

My mom loved these bobble head dolls. She also gave me an Irish couple who sit on a park bench with their picnic basket that includes a bottle of Guinness.

Daddy brought this lovely lady back from Germany

This charming little baby was happy to leave the nursing home gift shop and move in next to two china dolls that belonged to my grandmother.

Then there are the memories of my siblings. I often play a piece by Bach from a music book that belonged to my older brother, Ray. He apparently never enjoyed piano and I never remember hearing him play. My grandfather was a church organist in Cleveland with excellent men's and boy's choirs. Walking in his footsteps, my dad played the organ at the Naval Academy and later spent years as a volunteer organist in his parish after retiring. Seeing Ray's handwriting on the book brings back so many memories. How I miss my brother's humor and common sense and my dad playing opera on his grand piano. I still thrill at the Grand March from Aida.

I gave Daddy's grand piano to one of our sons and borrowed his wife's small upright which belonged to her grandmother. I think of my daughter-in-law when I play and thank God our son married such a wise and kind woman. 

And speaking of musical instruments, my brother Tom gave me a guitar. 

I rarely play it now, but used it often when I was teaching CCD and doing bible school. I often was the song leader playing very badly on the guitar as accompaniment. For one bible school I learned how to juggle and impressed the kids in my class, which proves it's not very hard to impress a group of 7-10 year olds. they were much more impressed by thirty seconds of juggling than all the music I played.

Many more memories are packed into that one room: gifts from friends, my rosary box of prayer intentions and remembrance cards of deceased relatives, priests, pro-life compadres and even people I've met on travels. I often promise to remember people in prayer, so they go onto a holy card and into the box. I cycle through the cards about once a month.

But there's so much more! My college Shakespeare textbook occupies a prominent place on the bookshelf. It brings back memories of my favorite college professor, Nancy Brown. I remember being thrilled when I visited the Green Valley Book Fair and found a copy of a book she edited on the Catholic martyr, priest and poet, St. Robert Southwell, S.J. How I treasure it. Thank you, Dr. Brown for giving me such a great love for the bard.

What mundane chores thrill your heart and instill in it gratitude to God? Do you meditate while doing laundry thinking of each family member whose clothes you fold? When you pull weeds in the garden and plant flowers do you think of eliminating vices and planting virtues praying for your spouse and your children and asking God to give you wisdom to serve them well? Everything we do is an opportunity to center our thoughts on God and neighbor beginning with our closest neighbors, our families.

In The Tempest, Miranda speaks ironic words as she sees the group of traitors, clowns, and would-be murderers gathered before her father, Prospero. "Oh brave new world," she exclaims, "that has such people in it!" I can say those words without irony as I think of all the family members and friends who crowded in on my memory when I cleaned the living room yesterday. My cup overflowed.

I thank God for placing all those dear ones in my life. What a joy! What a blessing! May we all meet merrily in heaven!