No Matter What, Give it Your Best

~ Sandi Staton

Once upon a time, just a few short years ago, I sported a mop and a broom and all other kinds of cleaning stuff. That’s what custodians do. They clean . . . well, they’re supposed to clean. I mean, that’s what they get paid to do. However, every time I walk into a public restroom, I want to hunt down their cleaning cart and clean for free just to kill the germs!

I admit it. I’m a clean freak. Even as a kid I couldn’t rest till my room was spic and span and everything in its place. So, today, when germs see me coming, they run screaming for cover.

And I’m spontaneous when it comes to cleaning . . . or anything I do for that matter. It’s called O.C.D (obsessive crazy disorder).

One night while cleaning the church/school I attended, I lost my mind cleaning and organizing the kitchen and pantry, wiping down cabinets, putting all the utensils back where they belong, and cleaned the stainless steel stoves and refrigerators; none of which were on my job description. Never mind that I hadn’t even begun to clean the huge dining room and zillion restrooms, and empty and take out all the trash which was my actual job description.

But I was blissfully insane making everything sparkly clean for the following day just to get all messed up again.

Why did I do that? Again and again.

WHY?

Suddenly, all that crazy-mad energy disappeared leaving me feeling like a wrung-out dishrag. With several more hours of cleaning to go, and feeling more dead than alive, I called my husband to come and help me.

It was midnight.

He was already in bed.

He had to get up and go to work the next morning. Early.

Yet, without a word of complaint, he came to my rescue.

I often look back on those fourteen years as a custodian for the church and school, those fourteen years of giving above and beyond the call of duty, of feeling that no matter how much I gave of myself  it was never enough, of feeling anxious and worthless and unappreciated. Yet, in spite of those feelings, I could lay my head on my pillow each night knowing that I gave it my best. That no matter how hurt and frustrated I felt and how many times I wanted to quit, I’d get up the next morning, drag my butt out the door, and start the never-ending, thankless, frustrating process all over again.

I’m thankful for those fourteen years of working, learning and growing, but I’m glad they’re many moons behind me and that I never have to relive them again!

Published by Sandi Staton

So, I'm sitting here trying to figure out how to describe myself to you, and these are the words jumping up and down in my heart: I'm just a simple human being living in a complicated, messed-up world. I speak my mind. I love hard. My feelings run deep. When push comes to shove, I stand my ground. Sometimes I push back. Sometimes I walk away. I've surfed the crashing waves of life that threatened to destroy me only to make me stronger. I bear the scars of emotional rape, sadness, and depression. I've walked the golden streets of churches and religion only to be disappointed time and time again. And as a result, it's taken me seventy-five years to get where I'm sitting today; a sinner saved by grace through the blood of Jesus Christ. I fell at the cross. I repented of my sins, and Jesus saved and washed me clean. I still fall flat on my face. I still get dirty as a pig in a mudhole. And Jesus still picks me up, dries my tears, forgives me again and again, and continues walking close beside me. No one has ever loved me like that. And no one ever will.