I haven’t posted in a while primarily due to two factors. Surprise! My husband invited his brother and family from Kansas to spend the night at our house while on their way to San Antonio, and we were going to be in College Station visiting our Aggie girl. Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy ride. If you’re a clutterbug like me, you know what it means to have to clear the decks on short notice.

The second obstacle was a case of some unidentified respiratory crud that made breathing a challenge and coughing a way of life. It slowed me down and rendered me only about 29 percent effective for a few days. As I recovered (and our visitors’ arrival approached), I was able to boost output closer to 60 percent for crisis cleaning.

The weekend before our company, Shawn was finishing up a project installing home theater speakers in the great room and, for a while, making an even bigger mess. We had to dig out six-year-old paint to touch up cabinets and get a fresh quart of the wall color to paint the cover hiding speaker wires. Out of respect for my husband, I won’t mention how many years ago he bought me the home theater system (love you, hon).

Once he finished, crisis cleaning commenced. How long had it been since I had dusted the ceiling fan? Can you tell by measuring the layer of dust? I wiped down my kitchen cabinets and scrubbed so hard in some places that the pickled finish (all the rage in 1995) was decimated. I vacuumed the wooden blinds in the great room with some success, but the same white blinds in the breakfast nook were so sticky that I had to settle for wiping off the worst of the dark splatters and leaving most of the dust intact. Was that chocolate syrup, soy sauce or barbecue sauce? When I started dusting the plastic mini-blinds in the master bath, slats started breaking like the warm, thin tortilla chips from Oscar’s. A carefully placed cafe curtain hid the damage.

I did get Rebekah and Anna to help out. Rebekah vacuumed the house while Anna cleaned her bathroom and did laundry.

My closet still hasn’t gotten much attention because I focused on the clutter everyone could see. I tackled the books and magazines overflowing the nightstand and basket by my bed and the papers piled on my desk. Shawn cleared the dining room table of cameras, photos and mementos from my dad who passed away two months ago.

The truth is it was good to get the house cleaner than it’s been in a long time. While far from perfect, we made a lot of progress in a matter of days. And the good news is I am not dreading turning over my house to a bunch of eighth grade girls this weekend for a church retreat (well, maybe a little apprehensive).

Romans 12:13 urges Christians to “practice hospitality.” All too often, I use my cluttered, dirty house as a reason to avoid hospitality, but if I want to bless others, I need to embrace those opportunities. I am thankful we could have Shawn’s brother, sister-in law and five kids stay at our home because I want to bless them, just as I want to help young women draw closer to the Lord this weekend.

God is not looking for me to be perfect. He wants me to take steps of obedience.

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” – Galatians 6:9

From Sandra Felton’s The Messie’s Manual: The Procrastinator’s Guide to Good Housekeeping (my comments are in parentheses)

0 – No one cares to enter your home (call city code compliance)

1 – Fools rush in where angels fear to tread (could be eligible for an episode of Hoarders)

2- If you had to, you could find at least one clean towel (this actually happened at our house a few weeks ago – mini towel crisis) 

3 – The dishes are clean, but stay out of the upstairs bath! (Even on a good day, I’m thankful for the downstairs powder room)

4- At least once a week, everything’s spotless–for a day! (Oh, to have a spotless house, even for just a day!)

5 – You can read a book without overwhelming guilt. (Okay, I can read even with things in shambles around me. My guilt shows up when someone’s at the door)

6 – The minister’s wife can call without panicking you. (At this point, I would need the better part of a day just to get the downstairs presentable with crisis cleaning)

7 – You can hold elaborate luncheons twice a week and have everything neat by 3:30 p.m. (Wow, there are people who can do that?)

8 – You gave away the dog and made the kids understand. (I would give away the kids, they’re messier…just kidding, girls!)

9 – Your kids aren’t allowed downstairs except to eat–neatly. (We all remember visiting homes as a kid where no one was allowed in the living room, like a museum without the velvet rope)

10 – No one dares to enter your home. (plastic protectors everywhere)

Not very many of us are 0s or 10s, Sandra Felton (another Sandra!) says, and no one really wants to be a 10. Some days I’m a 2, others a 3. I’d like to be a 7–that would be awesome–but I’d settle for a 5 or 6. How about you?

As a creative, right-brained person who is often in her own little world, I found a kindred spirit in reading books on “Messies” by Sandra Felton (another Sandra!). She says that people who have trouble keeping up with clutter and housekeeping chores are often easily distracted, visually tune out from their surroundings (lolling about in la-la land like me because we’re daydreaming), and have disorganized thinking (did it take you a long time to learn left and right? me, too).

We are all born with tendencies and raised in situations that can aggravate negative habits, but I believe that God wants to help us be over-comers so we can bless others and so we can have what Youth Pastor Brandon Smeltzer calls Grace Stories.  I can’t do this on my own, but “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” – Php. 4:13

Northwood Church in Keller, Texas, my home congregation, has a month-long series called “Losing It” that features contestants from The Biggest Loser telling how their physical transformation was a factor in their spiritual transformation. Teams of members and staff, including our Executive Pastor Bob Roberts, are competing to see who can lose the most pounds.

Northwood Church Losing It team, photo by Betty Alford

I don’t have a weight problem, never have. Unless you consider the names I was called in grade school: “Pick up Sticks,” “Bones,” “Spider.” I was what most kids would consider “too skinny” when I was little. As an adult, I’ve heard the phrase: “There’s no such thing as being too skinny (or too rich).” I’m not overly skinny anymore, but I have been blessed with a metabolism that allows me to eat most of what I want without a problem. I know, about 70 percent of you are hating me right now…

While I don’t need to lose body weight, I do need to lose another kind of weight. I realized that “Losing It” would be a great time for me to focus on losing the stuff that weighs me down, I mean literally.

Hello, my name is Sandra and I am a clutterbug. Not just a little bit here or there, but messes and clutter are all around me. My closets, my drawers, my tables and floors are all stuffed with too much stuff. Instead of losing weight off my body, I plan to spend the next four weeks losing the weight of too many possessions and to try to train myself into better habits of dealing with my home.

my messy closet, Feb. 8, 2012

In the interest of being real, at right you will see a picture of my closet. It’s kind of embarrassing, but that’s part of the point. Knowing that others will see my mess and my commitment to deal with it will provide motivation and accountability. I’ll end today with this verse:

“No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. ” – Hebrews 12:11

The orphans from Alto Refugio had just arrived at our camp when a little girl came up to me, grinned, and held up her swimsuit. She had sparkling brown eyes and feet that didn’t want to keep still. We were going to have a camp introduction session before we let the kids go swim, so I asked Rachel to tell her she could swim later. She listened and nodded. A few minutes later, I saw her wearing her swimsuit. I soon learned the girl’s name was Anageyli. She looked about 5 or 6, but she was 8, and she was in my small group “Equipo Azul” (blue team). I figured she would keep me busy, and I was right. Anageyli would climb trees, venture too close to the pool when it wasn’t swim time, and wander off from the rest of the group.

The first night of camp, one of the other Northwood moms, Shelley, brought me a handful of blue markers and Anageyli. She plopped the little girl in my lap for a little impromptu face painting. Anageyli asked for a “flor” on one cheek. I asked Rachel for a little translation help. Flower, of course. As I brushed back her chin-length hair to draw the flower, I noticed a two-inch scar running down the edge of her cheek. I carefully drew the flower, although my hands shook a bit. Anageyli turned and offered her other cheek. “Corazon,” she said. Thanks to “Romancing the Stone,” I knew that corazon meant heart. Once I was done I took pictures of each cheek because there were no mirrors handy. She smiled and nodded when she saw the digital images on my camera, gave me a quick hug, and off she went.

The next day during our small group Bible study, Anageyli—by far the youngest in our group–did not want to sit still. I took her to a nearby table with our notebooks, pens, and markers. She was trying to write her name, but had trouble with the “g.” She had me write it several times before making the attempt herself. I started drawing pictures for her. Flor, corazon, mariposa (butterfly), tortuga (turtle), and more. Lori, the camp director, brought us a brand new 24-pack of Crayolas, and we colored. The picture Anageyli wanted to draw over and over was the mariposa.

I gave her a beaded necklace of flors I had made earlier. Her eyes lit up. “Si, si, gracias.” She talked very excitedly as I tied it around her neck. I heard the word “mama” in there somewhere, but didn’t understand much. The hug and kiss are universal, though.

We had more time to draw and visit during the camp. Her propensity to wander reminded me of my youngest daughter, Anna, when she was little. She could get into trouble when she was bored but also could be very sweet and affectionate.

On the last afternoon, Rachel and several other teens went with the orphans to help them carry their belongings to their old school bus parked a few hundred yards away and say, “adios.” Rachel said that Anageyli was crying. She didn’t want to leave. Moments later, Anageyli was back at the campsite. I gently took her by the hand to walk her back to the bus. I noticed she was barefoot. “Donde estas zapatos?” I asked in my broken Spanish. She pointed at the bus, and I lifted her up onto my hip. I began humming, and so did she. We both sang snatches of songs. I told her “es mi amiga” (You are my friend) and “te amo” (I love you). She agreed and rattled off something sweet in Spanish as she gave me another hug.

I learned Anageyli had only been at the orphanage for a few months and was just coming out of her shell. Her body bore witness to a very rough 8 years, and the reason she was removed from her home. She had dozens of scars. Despite the violent abuse in her past, this little girl radiated a lively, loving joy. I was reminded that God longs for us to experience His healing and embrace His love.

Transformation is God’s business, like the caterpillar to the butterfly.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation.”
2 Cor. 5:17-18

Anageyli and her corazon