I’m a late adapter. I don’t typically jump on the bandwagon first and set the trend. I finally got a microwave in 2001…grudgingly. I watched my black and white TV until it was mostly white, then really did “fade to black.” I don’t own a DVD or anything to play one on. And I was the last of my friends to get a maid.

Three months ago, while I was deep into a major project at the office and working on a book manuscript at night – I realized my cleaning was leaving something to be desired. When my upstairs neighbor mentioned that her maid, Julia, was looking for another client, I took that as a “sign.” Julia took on the downstairs half of the 1938 duplex where I live, coming every other week to do the basics. (Not the laundry or the dishes, mom – I still do those myself. Often.)

When I walked through the front door the first Thursday that Julia cleaned, I breathed in the smell of pine and admired the fresh sheen on the wooden floors, the scrubbed spotless tub and plumped sofa pillows. It was all good. Very good.

Then I noticed that some things had moved. The rugs were straight, but definitely off their previous mark. The paper towel holder had migrated several inches from its regular spot on the kitchen counter. The ottoman in the living room was sitting at a jaunty new angle. As lovely as it was to walk into a freshly cleaned house – it was a little disconcerting to see my things in a place I hadn’t put them.

At first.

But then I realized that I liked the ottoman facing southeast instead of southwest. And that the kitchen rugs worked just as well horizontally as they had vertically. Now I look forward to every other Thursday not just because I know the house will be spotless, but because I’ll have the pleasure of looking for the things that Julia moves, and seeing if I like them better that way.

Do you ever feel that when you get your life well-arranged, God moves something? That’s the thing about Him. He takes liberties. Maybe a favorite “piece” will turn up missing, and then reappear in another, better location. Or a familiar pattern will be disrupted, but ultimately improved. It’s hard to keep everything in the place you first put it when the Creator of the universe decides to come in and make Himself at home – but that is good. Very good. Because becoming settled in our own comfort is never better than being surprised by Almighty God.

And at least twice a month now, I have Julia – and the things she moves – to remind me.

“Do not call to mind the former things, or ponder things of the past. Behold, I will do something new, now will it spring forth; will you not be aware of it? I will even make a roadway in the wilderness, rivers in the desert.” (Isaiah 43:18-19, NASB)

© 2003 Leigh McLeroy