As I was pushing around the heavy steam cleaner, God brought to mind a thought that entered my mind seven or so years ago. Yes, God has a sense of humor, and His timing is perfect. The day when I couldn’t stand to look at the dark spots on the den carpet any longer, the day when I decided that this was the day to try to remove the evidence of little girls sneaking Mommy’s make-up and magic markers, God reminded me of an ignorant thought that I will never again think:
I’ll never let my carpet get this bad.
Seven or so years ago, I was sitting in the den of a husband and wife who had volunteered to coach other small group leaders. They were as nice as nice could be, and their two blonde girls throwing cartwheels here and there completed the picture of the happy family. But their carpet…
…I was momentarily distracted by it. The fibers were worn–there was no ‘fluff’ or softness left–and the once pale, beige color was spotted with dark circles throughout. And in that moment, I remembered thinking that if I were them, I would get new carpet.
Of course, I had that thought when I was only married a few years. I had never had to re-carpet my house, so I had no idea of the expense. And the most important fact to explain my ignorance–I didn’t have any kids.
I had no idea the futility of getting new carpet when little kids were bouncing around, intent on destroying everything of value in one’s home. I had no idea the time wasted in cleaning anything because Murphy’s Law said less than 24 hours later that same area would be covered in filth.
Therefore, God reminded me of all that I had learned in the last six years while I worked the stains that penetrated my own worn carpet. I felt a twinge of guilt as I remembered my stupid thought. I only had a steam cleaner because my mom passed her old one on to me, and I didn’t whip it out every time a stain hit the rug because steam cleaning was a time-consuming, cumbersome chore.
As I finished the last row in the den, I started to feel what could be described as satisfaction. However, before my body would even let me acknowledge that fulfilling feeling, my mind woke me up: You know everything you just did was pointless, right?
And I did, but I drug the heavy machine up the stairs, anyway, determined to make less of the bright colors that dotted the landing, decorated my daughter’s room. Less than one hour later, after I had drug the machine back down the stairs and emptied the dirty water, my children drove home the lesson of which God had reminded me earlier that day.
Apparently, construction paper when wet will stain carpet. My son’s anger over his sister boiling the panda food in her little play pot that he had created earlier in the day ended in black splotches all over the other sister’s floor.
At this point in the story, I did what any mother would do and gave up.
Since becoming a mother, I’ve given up most expectations. No longer do I expect clean carpet, and if I go to your house, I won’t expect it there, either. In fact, if I come to your home, you can count on the fact that I won’t judge anything.
If there are dust bunnies in the corner or blatantly blowing like a tumbleweed through your family area, I won’t judge. If your clean laundry is tossed on a chair in a wrinkled mess, I won’t give it a second glance, unless I decide to help you out and fold a pair of pants or two. If your walls have the renderings of Picasso wanna-be’s or the letter ‘d’ 17 times because your child just figured out how to write, I won’t even notice. And if your counters are covered with enough papers to convince me that you are in charge of simplifying the tax code, I’ll nod with empathy. I’m that important, too.
I don’t judge anything, anymore. Even you, well-dressed 20-something rushing through the aisles with a frown at the grocery store–I know you’ve just yet to be enlightened about the workings of a four-year-old and a mini shopping cart. Don’t worry; I don’t judge you, either. I just suggest that you move to the other end of the store. Your thoughts might come back to bite you later.
What is a judgment that you used to make that you will no longer?
9 thoughts on “I’ll Never Judge”
I LOVE this post!!
Carpet snob!!! Haha!
I try very hard not to judge people’s homes and tidiness levels therein. But I still get really grossed out about cat and dog hair. I’m silently saying, “dude, vacuum the carpet once in a while,” despite knowing that pet hair can be just as futile to clean as kid messes. But yeah, I still don’t like excessive pet hair!
Yeah, me neither. Unfortunately, my dog's white hair sheds everywhere. My husband actually vacuumed our bedspread the other day. Yet another area which, while I don't like it, I won't judge.
I have been that twenty something giving the dirty looks and thinking get a hold of your kid lady and I am now that mom with the boys who are loud, are told no and don’t like it and have problems obeying- all the while I just want to get done and out of the store as much as they want me out!!
Me, too! I was a much better parent before I had kids. 😉
" And if your counters are covered with enough papers to convince me that you are in charge of simplifying the tax code, I’ll nod with empathy. I’m that important, too."
HA! Love it!
Ha! I used to think my children would never go around with dirty clothes. I didn't know dirt finds children five minutes after you put a new outfit on them. Changing them means more laundry, so I no longer care…or judge 🙂
oh, this is great, jennifer. i used to think that parents whose kids were loud/obnoxious/tantrumy in a store were somehow lacking in some magic parenting skills that i would most certainly possess….
Well said Jennifer!
Funny how with time we get full from eating our words. I think I may have life long heartburn from the whole affair, but wisdom does come…
I decided to wait a long time to have our table refinished… It seems every one of our daughters, regardless of the rules about nail polish, seem to be bent on destroying our table with the nail polish remover… I wonder why it's always right in front of where I sit?