Cleaning house

Heavenly Father,
Thank you for my past, my present, and, most especially, my future. With all my heart, I do love thee, Jesus! Amen.
As I was writing the previous blog, I started thinking about some significant events in my life...I had a pretty rough young life; but then, who hasn't, really? I grew up in poverty; not like living in a car, or a homeless shelter, but a humble beginning.
The semester my father was especially sick, I was on probation at school. Grades were slipping, and, quite frankly, I didn't care. The following semester my father died, and I was suspended from college.
During this time, I needed to find full-time employment, and get myself together. I had to make some money and return to school. I always knew I would return to school and finish  my degree; quitting school was never an option for me. I didn't want to live in poverty all my life. And not that I wanted a whole lot of money, and a nice car, etc., but I couldn't stand the abject environment where I found myself.
I think bc I didn't think much of myself at the time, and had no ambition to find a 'decent' job, I decided to become a maid. Yes, there for a short time, I cleaned houses for a living.

Not the most glamourous of jobs, but I liked it, and since I knew I wasn't going to clean houses for the rest of my life, I didn't mind it much.
I remember when I first began cleaning. Arriving at work a little before 8am, and sitting with the other maids...I could never figure out what we were waiting for, lol, and the whole atmosphere in the shop was one of desperation. (I realized later, what I thought was 'waiting,' was the ladies enjoying their coffee, and letting the folks whose houses we'd clean, wake up a bit, and be off to their jobs before we arrived.) Reflecting on the women I worked with, I kind of admired them. This was a humbling job, and even with the gloomy vibe in the room, the women were incredibly dignified, and good at what they did. I remember making the bed at one particular house, and the maid that was with me (maids were sent out in two's - like in Noah's arc) told me, "We want the pretty side of the flat sheet facing the child." They thought about their client's lives. I enjoyed my conversations with them, driving between houses, or going back to the shop at the end of the day.
I also vividly remember one particular house we cleaned. It was huge! I'm talking upstairs/downstairs, with at least 20 rooms. It had a long, gorgeous, winding stairway. I can easily project myself to sitting on those stairs again, as I'm cleaning the banister; the owner, a pleasantly plump woman, with an easy smile, gave me a curious glance as we entered her home; I guess because I was younger than my counterparts. But this woman was kind enough to play the most beautiful music as we cleaned. I think it was the first time I heard classical music. The harmonious sounds helped me understand (even better) Shawshank Redemption's character, Red (Morgan Freeman), when he narrated, "We sat and drank with the sun on our shoulders and felt like free men."
The melodies made me feel like things were going to get better. And they did.
"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa