Hidden Treasure

Nothing is ever lost, only misplaced.

Carol Bruning is an educator employed by Jefferson Community College, teaching 7,2-- gfish courses, She is the author of over 100 articles. She is married to Chaplain (MAI) Frank Bruning, U.S. Army, who recently returned from the mission to Haiti. They have two children, Jonathan, 12, and Elizabeth,10.

This article appeared Horne Life, Septem­ber 1994, Used with permission,

—Via Shepherdess International

The deacon's wife must have suspected my housekeeping en­deavors lacked proper priority. As footsteps echoed through the empty parsonage, she turned away from the rest of the search committee. "You'd never believe this place when preacher Thomas and his family moved out. His wife, bless her, was so busy car­ing for others, I don't think she ever managed to get her house­work done. Why, we had to paint every room, and it took us three full days to clean the oven!

She didn't in­tend it as gossip. It wasn't mean spirited or un­kind. The message she offered was clear: Keep the parsonage clean!

Throughout our tenure in the parsonage, and in the years since, I've followed her admonition in my own quirky style. It's not that we're total slobs. Housecleaning has never become a daily routine, much less a spiritual experience. Oh, we keep the laundry done—never mind I don't fold underwear. Frank vacuums once a week with fervor, and I can load a dish­washer with the best of them.

Once a month or so, I get the nesting instinct. I haul out the cleanser and wash every surface with the zeal of a newly ordained missionary. The rest of the time, I'd rather call on a sick friend or write a card to a new widow than dig the popcorn kernels, pencils, and pennies from the crevices of the sofa.

Every drawer a junk drawer

Unfortunately, they'll never hold me up as a shining example of great mo­ments in house­keeping history. Instead, my basic philosophy is: No place for any­thing and noth­ing in its place. Every house­hold has a junk drawer. We have six in every bedroom, five in the kitchen, and three in our home of­fice. Every drawer is a junk drawer.

It's downright demoralizing. A good friend, also a preacher's wife, has arranged, labeled, and card-cataloged their book shelves and video library. Hunting for something at our house, however, is truly an adventure. One can never imagine what might fall from a shelf or spring from under a bed. Every day reveals some long forgotten and misplaced treasures.

The surface appearance of our house seems neat and orderly. Should a curious church member drop by to discuss the nursery volunteers' schedule, she'd see a sparkling kitchen, replete with an immaculate stove. That is, as long as she doesn't see the charred crisps of a long forgotten, but en­joyed cherry pie, etched indelibly in the oven's bottom. I'm a hide­and-forget housekeeper.

No, I don't suffer from a bor­derline personality disorder as­sociated with maladapted preachers' wives. Hiding may explain, but not excuse, human inadequacies or failures. Adam and Eve did it in the Garden of Eden (Gen. 3:8). Moses hid after murdering the Egyptian (Ex. 2:12). Sin and its guilt are not the only reasons for hiding. Even King Saul, when God chose him to rule the nation of Israel, re­sponded to the honor by hiding (1 Sam. 10:22). Hiding is a nor­mal, human response.

I may be able to explain why we do it, but I know we cannot camouflage the reality of our lifestyle from the Lord. I cannot conceal my petty resentments and snide remarks and imagine that I am a perfect Christian any more than I can shut the hall closet and pretend that pile of coats, jackets, and hats on the floor isn't really there. As our omniscient Father, God certainly knows all about my sins and clumsy attempts to cloak the shame (Ps. 69:5). I have to own up to those dust bunnies under all the furniture in my life and do some spiritual mopping up.

Some days that commercial slogan, "Calgon, take me away!" can be so inviting. When the go­ing gets too tough, God allows us to hide. He even provides an es­cape route for faithful Christian (1 Cor. 10:13). Because we are so special (Ps. 17:8), He offers us a chance to regroup in His "secret pavilion" (Ps. 27:5). We can re­treat, as even Jesus did (John 8:59), from the strife of everyday life. When we hide in the sheltered sanctuary of His personal cham­bers, He even allows us to "close the doors" (Ps. 31:20).

Search is always on

"Honey, where'd you put it?" is the bane of my existence. Most of my family members have stopped asking such foolish ques­tions. Instead, they wander aim­lessly through the house. With a bewildered expression, they look through Mt. Everest-sized piles of paper and under cushions. Even­tually, they uncover whatever it was they were seeking in the first place. Maybe, they find some­thing even better.

My mother—my efficient, immaculate alter-ego—always told me, "Nothing is ever lost, only misplaced." As Christians, this old saying is especially rel­evant. We have the opportunity to hide in the Word. When we search for the lost keys, combs, and glasses of our spiritual life, we can turn up those spiritual treasures when we need them the most. When we read and medi­tate upon His words, we find an­swers that illuminate our paths (Ps. 119:105).

I doubt that I'll ever totally reform my hide-and-forget style of living. I'm pretty comfortable after 20 years of married life in this helter-skelter, spontaneous sort of existence. I can usually ra­tionalize my behavior. I simply tell myself: I'm like Mary; I'd rather be at Jesus' feet. That works most of the time. At least it did until the president of the Dorcas Circle came to visit us last week and asked to hang her coat in the hall closet.

Carol Bruning is an educator employed by Jefferson Community College, teaching 7,2-- gfish courses, She is the author of over 100 articles. She is married to Chaplain (MAI) Frank Bruning, U.S. Army, who recently returned from the mission to Haiti. They have two children, Jonathan, 12, and Elizabeth,10.

This article appeared Horne Life, Septem­ber 1994, Used with permission,

—Via Shepherdess International