Guest Blogger ... Debora Coty

“Mom,” my 24-year-old daughter looked at me sheepishly, “I have something, um, not so good to tell you.”

Oh, no. “Just call your congressman and leave a message.” Not very profound, I’ll admit, but after 9000 things going wrong on top of the jungle rot stomach flu, I just couldn’t take much more.

“I don’t want to talk to my congressman,” she replied with thinly stretched patience, “I want to talk to you.”

I definitely didn’t want to hear this.

“No, don’t glaze over, Mom.” She peered into my eyes and grabbed my arm. “And don’t disappear into that cave you call your office.”

Rats. The girl knew all my tricks.

“First of all, it was an accident, so don’t be mad.”

My tremulous tummy roiled.

“I came over to help you by cleaning the house.” She began towing me ever so gently into the living room. “But your psycho vacuum went ballistic and chewed up the new carpet.” She steered me to the center of the room where previously perky Berber fibers had somehow been sucked into the bowels of the vacuum and ripped loose from the carpet nap across a 5-foot swath. It looked like a giant run in a stocking.

Sigh. Ever have one of those days when the relentless forces of Spontaneous Degeneration kick you in the gut? What? Never heard of that infamous Coty Near-Fact of science?*

My theory of Spontaneous Degeneration declares that when left in an unnaturally clean state, matter will spontaneously deteriorate. Atrophy. Unravel.

You, too, have witnessed the ravages of Spontaneous Degeneration: an hour after you triumphantly finish slaving over a clean house, mold begins sprouting on shiny faucets, green slime oozes from the vegetable crisper, tiny hairs creep up from the drain and imbed themselves in the bathroom sink, and dust bunnies proliferate for a closet reunion.

The obvious conclusion? It’s best not to clean. Housework is something nobody notices until you ignore it. Then everybody becomes your mother: Do you live in a barn? I don’t remember an indoor blizzard! I forget - what color is this carpet?

So I’m not Martha Stewart. Or even the biblical Martha who zipped around tidying, cooking and organizing when the Son of God came to visit (Luke 10). But isn’t that a good thing? Didn’t Jesus rebuke Martha for her preoccupation as a human do-ing rather than a human be-ing?

So when we’re tempted to forsake our devotional moments, family time, or prayer walks to toothbrush the grout, disinfect the toilets, or scrub the baseboards like Martha on steroids, let’s remember Jesus’ words to His beloved spiritual sister: “Martha, dear Martha, you’re fussing far too much and getting yourself worked up over nothing” (Luke 10:41, TM).

Only one thing is truly of eternal importance: Papa God. And He created dirt!

* Consult my book Mom NEEDS Chocolate for other Coty Near-Facts of Science such as the TCC (Time Contortion Continuum) and Theory of Negative Relative-osity.


Debora M. Coty is a humorist, speaker, internationally published writer of over 80 articles and award-winning author or co-author of 11 inspirational books including Mom NEEDS Chocolate, Heavenly Humor for the Woman's Soul and Everyday Hope. Her children's devotional, Prayers for Daughters, debuts this month in bookstores and she is currently working on Too Stressed to Feel Blessed (And Other Feminine Fairy Tales). Deb has two kids and lives and loves in central Florida with her husband Chuck and desperately wicked pooch, Fenway. Stop by and swap cyber-hugs at www.DeboraCoty.com

posted by Margaret McSweeney @ 10:29 AM