I think it would go well for me if I could fully convince myself that cleaning the kitchen is one of my hobbies. First of all, I would have a hobby. Second, I could live life to the fullest, knowing that most of my life is spent pursuing my passion. I mean, who could complain about that? Third, it would really promote healthy relationships between Kevin and me and the kids and me, because every day they would be encouraging and supporting me in spending as much time as possible doing what I love. Then when, say, I empty the dishwasher, clean up the lunch dishes, and mop one half of the floor, then someone else comes in and makes themselves lunch, drains the mop water, and piles dirty dishes in the sink so I can start over again it would be AWESOME! (Sorry Emily, I know it's not cool to say awesome anymore.) And occasionally everyone would join in and it would be a group effort, like those families where everyone goes running together.
So. It's unlikely that will ever happen. But in the meantime, I can happily clean the kitchen seven times a day knowing that I am passionate about my family and serving them lovingly. Plus, there is joy to be had in turning something chaotic into something orderly and cleanish. I'm thankful--very, very, intensely thankful--to have a kitchen (and a big one, now!) and people to prepare food for and clean up after. So it's worth it, even though it really is work, and not really a hobby.
Maybe there's hope for diaper changing?
There was a time when the first thing I did after taking off my coat was to pick up a dish cloth and start wiping crumbs and goo from the kitchen counter. No matter how long or short my absence, someone would have done something in the kitchen to mess it up. It probably would have improved my attitude about it to call it a hobby. Colossians 3:23 helps, too.
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