A miracle has happened. A moment of sacred preciousness that should be paused and remembered with all the reverence due to it.
Today, I moved the couch to clean under it, and to my incredible amazement and delight, I discovered it was already clean.
Stop for a minute and consider this. Those of you without small children may not realise the magnitude of the miracle; for others no explanation is necessary.
Usually when I clean under the couch, it is like discovering treasure. If treasure comes dusty and occasionally covered in mould. Apart from the crumbs of Barbecue shapes, or the edges of popped corn, there is the requisite sand that has travelled inside from the remnants of the sand pit. These are the usual suspects; on a good, clean day, they will still be present, taunting me that no matter how I hard I try, I will never win the fight against dirt.
And then there is the other stuff. Now I am laying aside all pride in admitting to this, but here is a list of the various substances that have made their way under the furniture, in the hope to never again see the light of day.
Several dozen toy story endorsed green army men
Enough hair ties and bun pins to do the hair of Taylah’s entire ballet class
A collection of ‘Little People’ represented by their differing professions (sea captain, princess, mechanic…you get the idea)
Plastic fish otherwise known as squidgies, or perhaps just their tails
Drink bottles, plates, bowls, and cups
Knickers, socks and jocks
Various baby toys
Sesame street beanie characters
Crusts of bread that are beginning to grow penicillin
Slices of pepperoni that have been removed from pizza
The crusts of the pizza they were removed from
Half a toasted ham and cheese sandwich, and
A piece of battered fish
And that’s just what I remember. Indeed cleaning under the couch becomes a confronting and terrible experience that has the potential to throw me into a cleaning induced depression.
But not today. No, today, we have a miracle.
Granted, it was only the small couch, not the big one, (I’m not about to check under that right now), but a miracle is a miracle no matter the size.
What classifies this as a miracle, you ask? Well apart from the evidence of past experiences, there is the fact that I do not know how this happened. It has been a week since I moved the couch out to clean under it, and a week in my house is enough time for the couch to steal several pairs of shoes, and any food scraps that comes its way.
There is the very remote possibility that my mother in law cleaned under it; that is something she would do, but I don’t think so.
Or this could be the new plot for a very bad movie, cause the other night I was having some very random dream (about what I can’t remember), and when I stumbled out of bed to get Ava, I looked into the lounge and thought I saw the face of Jesus on the wall. Maybe he cleaned under the couch.
More likely I was just so tired I was imagining things.
Even remoter is the possibility that one of the kids cleaned up, but I think that would probably be a greater miracle than this one, and I don’t think my faith stretches quite that far.
No matter what way I look at it, the mystery of the clean couch is nothing short of miraculous. Jesus may have turned water into wine, and made the blind see, but this is a modern day marvel that I never thought I would be so blessedly fortunate to witness.
A clean couch. Wow.
Some things, just can’t be explained…