White Glove Test

I have always had a lived-in house. No spic-and-span for me. No white-glove test on the window sills.

.

I have tried the daily list. Vacuuming everything on Mondays. Washing clothes Tuesdays and Fridays. Bathrooms on Wednesdays and dusting on Thursdays.

I rarely have a clean house - a totally clean house, that is. My children were always the kids who asked, "is someone coming" when I managed to get the house in order.

That is okay for houses.

But that is not okay for souls.

We shouldn't wait for mortal sin to send us to the confessional - like I wait to see the dust accumulate before dusting or my feet to stick to the floor before mopping.

We are meant to be holy - as He is holy. To be perfect - as our Heavenly Father is perfect.

And that cannot happen if we fail to put our souls in order.

Our souls were never meant to settle for the world's lived-in standard.

If you come to my house, the floors may be sticky because the grandsons came for a visit. If you sit at the piano to play me a song, you may find that the keys are dusty and the Mozart statue on the upright piano is dusty, too. The fireplace may still have ashes from the previous winter's final hurrah.

But there is one thing I want clean - one thing I will not leave a mess.

My soul has either just been made clean through the Sacrament of Reconciliation and the Blood of the Lamb - or there is a little notebook in the bottom of my purse that keeps track of what needs to be cleaned. It goes with me into the Confessional where the Lord has washed away some complicated heaps of trash. We are now working on the corners and crevices where dirt likes to hide.

I am not perfect. But that is my goal.

I am not yet holy. But that is my desire.

When I die, the house may be left a bit of a mess, but I pray my soul is ready to entertain the King of kings.

If not, bring on purgatory.