Jesus and the task of washing dishes

By Colleen Roy

I never liked washing dishes; it made me feel as though I was chained to the sink while life went on behind me. Since our dishwasher broke down I seem to have more than my fill of dishes to do, but something about the warmth and the quiet has made me admit that perhaps there is some value in "sink and suds" washing.

Living in a 900-square-foot home with four children can feel a bit tight, but it never really bothered me. Since we brought Madalen home the house suddenly feels much smaller, messier, and so much noisier. There is nowhere for a mother to escape. Everywhere I turn there is another child lurking in the shadows with the words, "Mommy, I'm hungry," on his lips.

I seek out my own Bermuda Triangle, but to no avail. If I find a small corner somewhere to be alone I soon find that my socks are wet and, thanks to the ever present and mysterious juice spiller, I need to change them.

If I lock myself into the bathroom I'm guaranteed to hear a "whomp whomp whomp" on the door and a little, "Mommy, I need to go!" and now even my sleep is interrupted with the panicked cry of a baby who needs some milk in her tummy. There is nowhere to go, and nowhere to hide - except to my kitchen sink. For some reason it seems that no one has any interest in joining me there. Go figure.

While washing dishes today I thought of Jesus and His many searches for solitude. It seems that wherever He went the masses would find Him. After days of preaching, healing, and proclaiming the kingdom Jesus would retreat for a time of quiet, but it never lasted long.

The people, in need of guidance and comfort, followed after their Shepherd like little lost sheep. After a time of prayer, He would always go to them. Instead of being annoyed or feeling sorry for Himself He took pity on them.

I think of the homily my priest, Father Wilfred, recently gave where he said that Jesus "refuses to abandon us." These are very comforting words. No matter how needy I become, how whiny, how persistent in my pleas for some peace and quiet, He refuses to abandon me.

When I am sinning and making wrong choices He refuses to abandon me. When I ignore His call and abandon Him, He still refuses to abandon me.

If I, like Jesus, make time for prayer, my tasks as a mother don't seem so daunting. Somehow I find an unexpected grace in the needs of my children. They cry out to me and I have the privilege of being Jesus and bringing Jesus to them.

My Bible study group often gets onto the topic of service. We've asked ourselves how we could make time to go and work out Matthew 25: "when you did it to the least of these, you did it to Me."

We've come to the conclusion that there isn't necessarily a need for us to "go out" and seek the face of Christ in the poor, the hungry, the naked. The children that He has entrusted us with are our charge. They hunger (mine hourly) for nourishment, affection, and acceptance. They thirst for truth and guidance.

They are naked and imprisoned in a world that scorns them and seeks to corrupt and destroy them. 1 Timothy 2:15 says, "Yet woman will be saved through bearing children, if she continues in faith and love and holiness, with modesty." I don't doubt it. Where else is a woman asked to give so much of herself with so little "payback"?

It's all for naught if it is not done with faith, love, holiness, and modesty. I think this is where the time away to pray comes in. I for one can find motherhood overwhelming. Without prayer and faith it can be a great burden. When I make time to connect with God and see His face in my little ones I am privileged with the opportunity to serve Christ in my home.

I, Colleen Roy, this very night got to make fish and homemade crazy bread for the Christ Child. I got to change His stinky diaper. I got to hold Him in my arms and nurse Him while He gazed into my eyes. I taught Him math and tied up His Superman costume.

The Christ child held my hand today and told me that He loved me. We made cookies together and talked about animals that are native to B.C.

At the end of the day, we said our prayers, I laid Him down to sleep and went back out into the kitchen. There, in a moment of solitude, I even got to wash His dishes.