Cleaning the Base Boards

I am preparing for my roommate and myself to move out of our apartment. The cleaning checklist includes dusting the base boards, sweeping behind large kitchen appliances, and washing inside said appliances. As I crawled on my hands and knees with a Pledge-sprayed cloth, I thought of personal inventory.

I often think of personal inventory.

The "spot-check" inventory has become a part of my natural processing. Without much conscious effort, I am quickly aware of errors in my words and actions. I promptly correct these. Like putting plates in the dishwasher and hanging bathroom towels, I clean up after myself in daily affairs through spot-check inventories. It's a good way to handle current conditions that might affect my spiritual fitness.

But what about the base boards, the drip pans, and the cob-webbed crevices hidden behind well-kept furniture? I regularly tell myself that I'll get around to those deep-cleaning items. Unfortunately, there never seem to be enough hours in the day.

In late March, my sponsor suggested another thorough inventory. It wasn't urgent; I'd done several, and I couldn't uncover more facts about the things I'd already examined. Nevertheless, I began the process as advised. Then I went on vacation to Costa Rica, followed by moving into my now-roommate's apartment. When I returned to the list I'd started, I felt no resentment. Or at least, I felt nothing new. It was the same names and situations from past inventories, matters previously explored and exhausted. So I put it away.

My sponsor brought the subject up again last month. This time, she suggested a different approach, a new way of searching over my life. I was excited to try it. Yet, I balked. After taking inventory of why I didn't want to take inventory, I realized that I am "like a boy whistling in the dark to keep up his spirits." I fear that my deepened understanding and insight will reveal facts I'm not prepared to face---and that will trigger a downward spiral of depression. [Note: There's a difference between being depressed and having depression. People who are depressed can "suck it up." People who have depression are mentally disordered.]

Now the apartment must be readied for a new tenant, another person to share this space. It's time to clean the dark corners. At first glance, the blackened grease and dusty grime will be a shock. I'll crinkle my nose and twist my lips as I reach out with a cloth. And then, wiping away the filth, I'll uncover the pure sparkle beneath.

Doesn't the same apply to me?