Toilet Talk

I remember the guy who taught me how to scrub toilets.  I think of him every Friday morning.

His name is Jon and he was the camp intern/director for nearly every summer I was on staff.  Each Friday morning at our daily staff meeting they would divvy up the end-of-the-week cleaning duties between all the cabins.  And each time the “Bathrooms” assignment was handed out, Jon would give the speech.  The “how-to” on toilet bowl cleaning.  I can still see his half-smile and signature hand-gestures as he reminded us about the importance of cleaning not just the inside of the bowl, but the outside as well…all the way down to the floor and around the back.  After all, “that’s part of the toilet too!”  I’m sure we sat there rolling our eyes and mouthing the well-known admonishment along with him as he passionately implored us towards excellence in the realm of porcelain polishing.

But somehow amidst our giggles and moans, his message must have landed deep in my heart.

You see, to this day I cannot clean a toilet without hearing Jon’s voice echo in my head.  Even when I’m grossly pregnant and maneuvering myself down into the tiny space that will let me clean that unseen part of the toilet near the wall is painfully awkward…I still can’t ignore the voice urging me toward “excellence” in such a humble task.

A few years ago I decided that since I think of Jon every time I clean my toilets, I might as well use that time on my knees to kill the proverbial two birds with one stone.  So I began to pray for his family (still serving as camp directors to this day) every Friday morning while I scrub the toilets in my own home.  Turning my attention from the temporal to the eternal helps me not to notice the extra 3 minutes it takes to go the extra mile in my toilet cleaning, let alone the way the blood is rushing to my head as I perform ridiculous gymnastic feats to squeeze into the 8 inches between my toilet and the shower.  When I’m done, I feel strangely proud in knowing how clean my toilet is…even though most people will never see it.  (Now I’ve done it…next time you’re at my house, you’re going to check it out, aren’t you??)  But more than that I’ve cherished a few minutes talking to the Lord on behalf of some great “old” friends and listened to how the Spirit might direct me to pray for their growing family.

Writer C.J. Mahaney calls this seizing our commute for the Kingdom – or something like that.  He talks about how everyone has a daily commute or some kind of menial task that they mindlessly perform day after day that could be seized for Kingdom work – prayer, meditation, scripture memorization etc.  It’s just another small way to practice the presence of God while filling the dishwasher, taking out the trash, or driving from soccer practice to ballet lessons.

This morning as I was scrubbing near the floor on my toilet I added a prayer of thanksgiving for Jon and his exhortation to extra effort.  As it turns out…once you have growing boys, a lot more than just dust can accumulate in that unseen space.  Who knew?  

Perhaps the guy who taught me how to clean toilets did.  Thankfully, I think of him every Friday morning.