I Could Learn

I just finished sweeping and mopping the kitchen floor upstairs.  You see, by choice I’m the house husband of this home.  My wife’s time is much more productive financially if she is able to do a good job at her work, so I do the cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping, etc.  That relieves her of the duty to do these things in the evening and on weekends, and enables her to rest and refresh.
I was thinking as I was sweeping about how long it had been since I last wielded a broom and mop on the floor.  Far too long, I fear, because there were all kinds of stains and other unmentionables scattered on the tile.
I then thought about my own mother and her work at home when I was young.  There were six of us children, along with a husband and a too-small house (about 1,400 square feet).  The house, as you might imagine, got a heck of a workout every day.  The kitchen saw most of the action, because we never went out to eat or called out for pizza.  The meals were three a day, plus snacks, every day of every month.
Mom once talked a little to me (and I think some other of my siblings) later on in her years, about her lot in life and the fact that she never was a professional woman in the workforce (except for a short stint as a dishwasher for a local restaurant).  She remarked, as part of the conversation, that she swept the kitchen floor every day.  I can’t remember if she said she mopped it every day or not.
She was happy and content with her role as wife and mother.  She often sang as she swept the floor or mixed cake batter.  She enjoyed time spent in the garden raising produce for us to eat.  I am reminded of what Paul said long ago, “I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am.”  I could learn a lesson, here.