Magic Swiffer Wand

I'm allergic to dust. So, wouldn't that mean that I'm allergic to dusting, too? I say yes.

But allergy or no, I still have to dust when I clean house. Mainly because I have no children living at home to give that menial task to. Where have the years gone? When did those chore-children grow up? (The large young man in the corner bedroom doesn't qualify to be a duster. He is the lawn mower, garbage taker outer, clean your own bathroom, and whatever else we don't want to do, man-child). 

Although I tend to dust the living space of our home pretty regularly, there is always the "outskirts" of the home where dust gathers. I personally think when I swipe the fireplace mantle with my swiffer dust wand, the little molecule monsters hurry and float their way to spaces undusted. Say--perhaps my office?

Over the course of my 40's (I'm in the final stretch this year) I allowed a lot of dust to gather in my soul. 

Side note: I've heard that 50 is the new 30. I'm praying that is true.

I'm not a doctor but I'm pretty sure every woman feels like some alien has taken over her body during the 40's season of life. Our mother's would call this the change of life...I call it the alien years. I think Peter must have been addressing his mother's generation when he said:

Beloved,  I urge you as aliens and strangers to abstain from fleshly lusts which wage war against the soul. 1 Peter 2:11

In case you hadn't noticed, mid-life women become aliens and strangers. I'm sure my husband and kids had moments when they asked: Who is this woman? Trust me, we (the middle-aged woman) wage war in our souls for sure!

After war, the dust begins to settle. That's when we soldiers of the menopausal mess pull out our magic swiffer wands and gently attack the cob webbed corners of our soul. When I clean house, my wand happens to work best when accompanied by music. Hence, dusting the corners of my soul needed music.

In the midst of my war, my daughter gave me a lovely sign that inspired this blog post. But for me, simply playing music wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed to BE music.

In a day and age where churches have allowed trends to push choir and special musical performances right out the door, I’m thankful the leadership at Cedar Park Church sees things different. I know the three major performances I’ve been a part of (Christmas, Easter, Patriotic) have ministered to others, but truthfully, they ministered to me more.

The passion from our directors, Don and Lily Wolf, challenged us to be better singers. To not settle for getting the notes and words right, but to push to make those notes and words resonate the message of Christ to believers and non-believers alike.

My interpretation of Don’s passion? We aren’t just singers. We are ministers.

There have been testimonies come in where seasoned Christians and their unsaved neighbors alike allowed the swiffer wand of music to swipe away at the dusty corners of their souls.

We all know that after we dust and clean house, inevitably it will become messy again, but for now, I’ll sit back and enjoy the cleanliness.

Then sings my soul…