The other day when we were expecting guests I gathered all
my cleaning supplies and headed to the guest room. The first thing I noticed was a kernel of
corn on the tile floor. Gross, who would
eat corn on the cob in here? But because in my cleaning world, the floors
are always last, I lit a scented candle, opened the window, stripped and remade the
beds, scoured the bathroom tile, cleaned the shower door, shined the faucets, sprayed and wiped down the mirrors, dusted the furniture, shook out the rug and vacuumed it,
put out fresh towels, blew out the candle, closed the window and stopped to admire
my work. The room looked great.
Except for a kernel of corn on the floor.
And suddenly the kernel of corn isn’t gross. It’s a reminder
that I missed something important—mopping the floor. And maybe mopping the
floor isn’t that important in the
giant scheme of things. But a clean guest room, to me, says you’re important to me, I want you to feel
warm and comfortable here, because I value your friendship, I have mopped the floor.
A lone, dirty corn kernel on the guest bedroom floor says
someone wasn’t chewing with their mouth closed when they were eating corn on
the cob.
I think that if I hadn’t noticed the corn kernel, my guests
would have. And all the vacuuming, scouring, and dusting would have gone
unnoticed—completely over shadowed by the lone corn kernel.
It’s important to
remember that sometimes even something gross can be exactly what we need.
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