Liturgy for Common Tasks

Life Stuff

As I chop carrots for supper,

Take the fifth load of laundry from the dryer,

Sweep dried mud from the kitchen floor,

Fold the blankets in the living room,

Straighten the rug in front of the sink,

Set boots and shoes in semi-neat rows—

You meet me in these middle moments.

Your eyes are in every place;

You show Yourself strong on the behalf

Of those whose hearts are perfect toward You.

You see the tears that fall on potato peelings,

On my Bible’s pages, on the fabric beneath the sewing machine.

You hear the songs I sing over stacks of jeans,

Plants on the windowsill, kale and cilantro in the garden.

You hear the breath of prayers over a stubborn seam,

Lost keys, wayward coats, marbles, toy cars.

You hear the sighs of the twenty-nine-thousandth supper I need to cook,

The gazillionth argument I must settle,

The uncountable days that end with tasks unfinished.

Because I know Your presence, I can still be

Strong and courageous, not frightened or dismayed;

Because You are with me wherever I go.

I see You in clean dishes,

In crossword puzzles and homework,

In beads and crayons and paint and paper.

Because You have set me in this household of chaos and joy,

And my obedience to Your calling for me makes every task holy,

I meet You in storybooks, string lights, and sweaters;

In pasta, pigtails, and preserves.

You are a God who is everywhere and not in one place only.

No one and nothing can hide where You cannot see.

You are everywhere in heaven and on earth.

I ask only this—continue to meet me here:

In clean shirts draped over the ironing board;

Counters full—or emptied—of dirty dishes;

Lasagna and garlic bread hot from the oven;

Lights turned low and couches emptied of all but cushions

When the household has gone to bed;

Doll houses and remote-control trucks and Lego and crafts;

Piano music and laughter and connection.

And I can be sure of this—You are with me always,

Even to the very end. For all of this, I thank You.