the house elf

when i was a little girl, i'd play this game with God. i was the house elf and only He could see what i was up to. i liked to clean, create a new space out of disorderly one, create a warm and welcoming environment out of a chaotic one. and so the game i played was to tidy up a room, a shelf, and place when no one was looking and see if others could figure it out. it was never about the reward of words of appreciation directed toward me. it was never about acknowledgement from a parent. it wasn't about brown nosing to get what i wanted. it wasn't manipulative driven. it wasn't for payment. it was a heart felt connection with God of pure joy; a private joy that others couldn't measure or comment on, that existed between God and me.

and so, quietly, in the sleeping times when others were snoring away, or out of the house; i'd tackle a corner, an entry way, a shelf that rarely made the chore list, that suffered neglect, that needed attention and i'd begin to work. singing to myself, imaging fairy dust being sprinkled about, cleaning until it glistened, polishing until it shined, i'd transform a space.

and then, as stealthily as i could, i'd slip back into the ranks of child number four, praying that i'd not be noticed or caught, because that took all the fun out of the game i was playing with God. a house elf that magically came to make my family's home a better place.

you see, i grew up in a family economy where chore lists were expected to be completed, and family responsibilities were instilled. going beyond the list, doing what i saw needed to be done without being asked, made the family system, in my mind, more exciting, more rewarding, more meaningful.

i served my family out of a purity of heart, eager to please, not needing reward, because that's how i could work out my child-like faith. and the high i experienced was one that couldn't be bought; it wasn't something i could eat or drink or own or smoke or get intoxicated by. it was a natural high of seeing a need, and being designed and gifted to fill that need without be asked. it was a game i played and i was joy filled in the role i occupied.