Got any chores needing done?

I’m your guy!

During my lifetime (feel free to add the word “extensive” here if you so choose), I have had a very up and down relationship with the whole concept of chores.

Growing up, I hated them. Today I kind of embrace them as old friends. 

As the eldest of five children, it always seemed as if I was assigned the most distasteful chores in the Brown household. I was the first to learn to use the mower and was then assigned the lawn mowing chore. I drew the assignment of cleaning out the poop from the rabbit hutch during our family’s brief rabbit-owning period. I also fed the dog(s) when that duty arose. 

Leaves need raking? Let Rusty do it!

The one chore of my youth I eagerly looked forward to was BURNING THE TRASH! Some of you might be old enough to remember when this was a thing. Every family back then had a burn barrel of some kind back behind the house. Then once a week – usually on Saturday morning – the accumulated family combustibles were taken out, dumped in that barrel, and set alight.

Pyromaniac heaven!

Later, during that dark time known as, “The Working Years,” chores just seemed to gum up the works. They had to be done (because, you know, clothes and dishes eventually have to be washed), but there was never a good time to do them. Chores had to be fitted in at odd times like midnight or 6:00 a.m. – even though the neighbors occasionally complained about being woken up by the carbureted braying of my lawn mower.

Today, however, things are different. I find that in Retirement Land, chores have become my friend. They are the things that give shape and meaning to the day. They help keep the machinery of the Brown house humming smoothly along (after a fashion). I can truthfully say I look forward to making us coffee in the morning, mowing my lawn, taking out the garbage, watering the houseplants, unloading the dishwasher, sweeping the wood floors, feeding and walking the dogs, trimming the hedges, folding the laundry and performing other tasks as needed.

And as is the case with many married couples, Joan and I have an unspoken understanding of who does what chore and how often. We (mostly) wait patiently for the other to complete the chore on the schedule that suits them best. 

As I age though, the line I must very carefully avoid crossing over is the line that divides “Hmmm. Chores Aren’t That Bad After All,” from “Chores Are EVERYTHING!”

I live in mortal dread of becoming that guy who stands at the community mailbox, fuming and peevishly tapping his foot when the mailperson has not arrived at the customary 11:45 a.m., or who completely unironically yells, “GET OFF MY LAWN!!” at the neighbor kids.

If that ever happened… if one day you saw me outside wearing a striped shirt, plaid shorts, black socks and sandals while carefully pruning back my rose bush… it would be because somehow my world shrank. I am not suggesting this is true of everyone who wears that uniform, but for me it would be because I have stopped thinking about the needs of my neighbors… both seen and unseen. It would tip you off that I had somehow come to the decision that my sphere of concern (and influence) suddenly stopped at the edge of my property line.  

It would be an occasion for weeping because it would signal that the words of Jesus had lost their authority in my life. You could point at me, shake your head, and say, “I guess ol’ Russell has thrown in the towel on that whole ‘love your neighbor as you love yourself’ idea.”

And you know what? You would be completely justified thinking that. 

So today I will do my chores. I will derive a genuine level of satisfaction as I put the tight hospital corners on the bedspread. I will joyfully squirt and clean the counter tops after making my sandwich. 

But I will also pause and pray for Ukraine, for Guatemala, and for Haiti. I will try to find ways to comfort the poor and broken-hearted friends and strangers I encounter. And I will remind my siblings and other family members that I love and cherish them…

… Even when they walk across my well-groomed lawn.

Abundant blessings;