It took me an hour to sweep the kitchen today.
Yes, an hour. A whole, sixty-minute, four-alarm, might-as-well-have-been-a-marathon hour.
Now before you picture me sweeping through a grand Southern estate with marble floors and a butler named Jeeves, let me stop you. My kitchen is not that big.
So why did it take so long?
Because I had “help.”
The kind of help that comes in the form of sticky fingers, tiny feet, and a toddler who thinks the broom is a flying machine. (Monkey Boy has clearly seen Wicked a few too many times.)
Every time I got one pile of crumbs together, someone helped by running through it, dropping a Cheerio trail behind them like Hansel and Gretel on sugar highs.
And honestly? It’s because I’ve been behind. Three days of caring for sick kids, juggling work, and trying to keep up with life had left me wiped out and buried under messes—literal and emotional ones.
So when I finally picked up that broom, I didn’t just sweep the floor—I swept my frustration, my fatigue, and my frazzled faith right along with it.
And somewhere in that hour-long saga, God gently nudged my heart.
“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.”
— Colossians 3:23
Oof. Even sweeping? Yep. Even sweeping.
Because here’s the thing—faith isn’t just found in Bible studies and Sunday services. Sometimes, it’s found in Cheerios stuck to the floor and a broom that just won’t quit.
God doesn’t need perfect floors; He just wants our hearts in the right posture while we clean them.
It reminded me of Martha and Mary in Luke 10. Martha’s scrubbing and serving, and Mary’s sitting and soaking in Jesus’ presence. Martha gets frustrated (understandably—I’ve been there with a sponge in one hand and resentment in the other), but Jesus gently reminds her:
“Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one.” (Luke 10:41–42)
That “one thing” isn’t a spotless floor. It’s a steady heart.
So maybe it’s okay that it took an hour to sweep. Maybe that hour wasn’t wasted—it was worship.
The crumbs will keep coming. The kids will keep “helping.” And the mess will never really stay gone. But in every slow, interrupted, grace-filled minute, God’s right there with us.
Because sometimes faith looks like folding laundry, wiping noses, and sweeping floors for the tenth time.
And sometimes, worship sounds like the swish swish of a tired mom who’s still showing up. 💛
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