The Woman: The Heart

Perhaps a woman’s work is like a heart’s work. The heart could feel mundane. Pumping the same couple pints of blood through the same physical body. The same rhythm. The same thing over and over again…

A hidden camera in your house or mine,

pointed straight at the kitchen table

would probably look like this:

Two hands, a woman’s hands, straighten placemats

set napkins, silverware, plates, toast, cereal, cups

pick up napkins, silverware, plates

gently fold placemats to be shaken over sink

replace placemats, oops, remove them again, remembering to wash off the sticky spots on the table that were not prevented by the placemats, napkins, or bibs

replace placemats

(remove stray books, tin child-size frying pans, dolphin necklace, and toy cell phone)

remove placemats

lay down big plastic sheet for craft

plop down with plastic tub of finger paints

set out paper plate palates, paints, smocks, brushes

Two hands, woman’s hands, paint with smaller hands

pick up sheets of paper, sopping with color, to hang on the refrigerator

screw caps back onto paints, untie smocks, clean brushes, remove paper plates

wash off plastic mat, and colorful spots on the table that were not prevented by the mat, plates, or smocks

replace placemats

(remove small plastic doll shoes, paper clippings, pipecleaner inventions, etc.)

set out lunch dishes, silverware, hard boiled eggs, salt, pepper, sliced apples, and cups

stack plates – one with leftover yolk, the other with leftover whites – both with a stray apple slice or two

remove cups

remove placemats

wash table

replace placemats

set out books, notebooks, coloring pages, crayons, pens, pencils

write, color, think, and create with a child or alone

close books, notebooks; gather crayons, pens, and pencils

tear out admirable coloring pages to hang next to the drying paints

disappear under table to gather pencil shavings, crumbs, previously over-looked egg-droppings, paint splotches, and *always* a stray bead or two

straighten placemats

(remove folded up bits of paper, telephone, dolls, socks – socks?! – crumby napkins, etc.)

straighten placemats

set napkins, silverware, plates, glasses, candles

light candles

lift fork to mouth, cup to mouth

pass salad dressing, rolls, napkins

pick up dropped forks, rolls, and napkins for a little one

gather plates, napkins, glasses, candles

fold placemats

remove placemats

wash table

replace placemats.

The hidden camera will record one hundred days that look just like this: a small wooden table, enduring the same ritual over and over again, the same 2 hands working the same fabric over and over again. And that’s just the kitchen table. And you know I’m under-estimating.

But if we pan out and point the camera at our lives…

…to see the constant cleaning, reordering, revitalizing, helping, beautifying, and organizing – not just in the corners of our houses, but in the corners of our relationships as well – we’ll see homes being built from the deepest reaches of the foundations to the highest aspirations of the trusses.

…to see the constant praying, longing, thinking, wondering, caring, helping, beautifying, and repenting that work over and over and over ourselves, our husbands, our children, our neighbors and friends…

…to see that it’s this work that builds homes and lives.

What feels like mundane, ritual repetition, is in fact revitalizing, catalyzing, creative building.

Perhaps a woman’s work is like a heart’s work. The heart could feel mundane. Pumping the same couple pints of blood through the same physical body. The same rhythm. The same thing over and over again.

But the heart doesn’t feel that way – and we don’t feel that way about the heart – because the whole point of the heart is that it works out the new blood.

That it beats a new beat.

We rely on the newness of “over and over again”.

Each beat – as repetitive as it seems – builds a life.