A Stain in the Carpet
There are recognizable moments were we realize the sum total of our experience has great impact on how we perceive our environment. We had one such occurrence which stood out from other experiences in its simplicity of what most might consider an everyday event.
Realizing the house was in desperate need of cleaning, my wife contacted a Hispanic woman who had worked for her over the past year. She speaks broken English but very skilled at communicating. A hard working woman who moved here with her husband and family in search for a better life.
Upon the "helps" arrival, the wife explained the requirements and the expectations of a well groomed home. This woman specializes in non-occupied homes and since she had done such great work on other properties, we decided it was worth given her the opportunity to show off her skills. Thinking about it, the phase “being given an opportunity” in itself is interesting. As with many workers, the desire is to show what they know, rather than be told the expectations. How many of us want to have our talents defined by our employer. We rather celebrate by showing the impacts our skills can have on the whole.
The wife distinctly told the woman what products to use and why she needed to be careful when using them. The internal pride of the “help” said, I get it. There is no need for the over explanation. The “maid” kicked into full gear and started scrubbing weeks of dust piled up from the residence of this kingdom we call home. It took six hours of detailed cleaning to make the home welcoming enough for friends who would share our palace over the holiday.
Into the third hour, after having returned from a brief moment of exercise, there it was… Standing out like a trophy in the middle of the room. A gift saluting a job well done. A moment of complexity creating a “What to do now”? One of those situations which make your heart beat fast, causing the brain to go foggy, and a deep fear of “what is going to happen next?”
As I entered the room, I saw something out of the corner of my eye which I had determine was a rag the “help” neglected to pick up. Like any good overseer, it was time to inspect the work. So far so good. She had passed the white glove test. I wasn’t seeing the soot in the corner normally left behind by those who have no desire to engage. Reaching down to grab the rag, I realized I was touching the carpet. My fingers running across the curled brittleness of a dried out sponge. Even worse, a texture not wanting to change no matter the amount of attention given.
Stepping back, I glared at it hoping it would recognize my dismay and take on its original form acknowledging I was not happy. But it glared back as if to say, deal with it, it is the new me. In disbelief, I called my wife to examine this emblem which yelled independence. Not only was it a “Stain” in the carpet, but it was a chemical burn. One that said, I am here to stay.
My wife was in disbelief after communicating how to use the chemicals and its potential side effects. She called for the “Maid” requesting an explanation. The “Help” came out to explain how this unfortunate accident occurred. I chose to walk out during the explanation as my mind quickly started to wonder. It is as if I was traveling back in time on a time machine, landing me smack dap in the middle of the late 1800’s. The wife of the slave owner had called on him to interrogate her for this egregious failure of trust with the family Heirlooms. With a great deal of anger, the wife started yelling for the head of household to take the careless slave out back to beat the sloppiness out of her. Did she have so little respect for our prize processions she neglected to recognize we were the owners of this castle? Thus it was required for us to beat the recognition into the fabric of her being.
The flashes ran wildly in my mind. What would have been her fate? Surely anything short of death was going to be a result of our good graces. My mind continued to wonder. How would I have responded to such a beating, as the deliverer or the recipient? Suddenly the time machine threw me back into the present. Here I was, reliving a moment in history. Wondering how I would have responded.
My first response was one of compassion. Compassion for all of those before her, having dealt with the pain of imperfection. In my mind’s eye, I could see the fear and dismay in the hearts of those who would soon be stripped of their spirit. I then mentally went to restoring ones dignity. How could this best be achieved while recognizing the impacts and not killing future growth?
The answers to the questions came fast and steady. Gratitude… We were grateful for being in a position to have someone willing to clean our house. We were grateful for being in a position, in time of need, to have the resources to make it possible. We were grateful for those willing to risk persecution to find a way to carve out a living while pleasing others. We recognized we were grateful indeed!
It was just an eye opening stain in the carpet.
