Well, dear friends, as I glance ahead on the calendar, I see that I have but one week of vacation left. It has been magnificent so far — full of family, rest, golf, and, of course, the Camino adventures I’ve shared with you. But one unavoidable reality now looms on the horizon: the “stuff” that must be done before I return to parish life.
Now, don’t misunderstand me. I still intend to squeeze in at least three more rounds of golf. I’m not a saint yet, and if you believe in the communion of saints, you’ll know there’s always room for one more birdie. But alongside that noble ambition sits the somewhat less inspiring list: laundry from my various trips still waiting patiently in corners, dust in the house which is beginning to exhibit signs of independent life, and neglected chores that will not vanish by prayer alone.
So today is to be a “clearing the slate” sort of day. A day for vacuuming, washing, folding, and generally restoring order. It’s not glamorous, but there’s something quietly holy about it. Scripture reminds us that “whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus.” (Colossians 3:17). That includes preaching, praying, and yes… even scrubbing the bathroom sink.
The truth is, it is often in these ordinary tasks that we rediscover God’s presence. The sweeping and folding become their own small parables of grace — God is forever sweeping away what is broken, making clean what is soiled, and setting things in their proper place. If nothing else, I take comfort that heaven’s laundry, at least, will always come back perfectly folded.
So today I putter, polish, and perhaps mutter a little under my breath. And as I do, I remember: holiness is found not only in the soaring cathedral but also in the broom closet, not only in the hymns of Sunday but in the hum of the washing machine on a Tuesday.
And when the work is done? Well, then it’s off to the golf course, to sanctify the fairways with my slice.