jesus – The Self Cleaning House

Home Is Not a Place—It’s a Blessing You Create

Posted on July 24, 2025 by theselfcleaninghouse

🪴 What Is Home, Really?

I’ve lived in many different houses over the years. Some were new, some were beautiful, some were fixer-uppers, and some held more love than square footage. And through it all, I’ve learned something simple but profound:

Home isn’t a building.

It’s not the furniture, the fresh paint, or even the smell of cookies baking in the oven (although that helps! Let’s be honest!).

Home is a blessing you create with your presence.

People often say, “Home is where the heart is,” but I believe it’s more than that.
Home is something you intentionally build—with time, with love, and with prayer.

🕯️ What Makes a Home a Blessing?

🧺 1. Home Is Felt, Not Just Seen

Every home has a feeling. Have you ever walked into someone else’s house and sensed something immediately? Maybe peace. Maybe warmth. Maybe stress or chaos. There’s always a “vibe,” and it speaks louder than any décor.

The feeling of your home matters more than how picture-perfect it looks.
It’s not about perfection—it’s about peace. It’s about creating an atmosphere of love and grace.

I remember when my kids were younger, ours became “the house” in the neighborhood. The one where all the kids gathered. They played basketball in the street, bounced on the trampoline, soaked in the hot tub, and piled into the kitchen for snacks.

It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t perfect.
But it felt good.
It felt safe.
And that told me—I was doing something right.

🌼 2. You Don’t Have to Have It All Together

Let’s be real: there were days when the toys were everywhere, dishes were piled high, and I felt like I was failing at everything.

But my kids?
They didn’t remember the mess.

They remembered how I tucked them in.
They remembered the bedtime prayers, the silly stories, the warmth and laughter.
They remembered the love.

A perfect home isn’t one without clutter—it’s one filled with connection.

💛 3. Home Is Where Love Is Practiced

Home is where we practice grace. Where forgiveness gets worked out in the little moments.

It’s where socks get folded with prayer.
Where meals are made with tired but loving hands.
It’s where we learn to trust each other, where we fall and are helped back up again.

And above all—home is the place where we invite Jesus to dwell.

🪞 You Are a Home-Maker in the Holiest Way

Dear Mom, you are creating a blessing every time you make someone feel safe.
Every time you speak life over your family.
Every time you show up with love—whether through a hot meal, a clean shirt, or a quiet hug at the end of a long day.

That’s home.
And it matters more than you know.

What does home feel like to you today? Leave a comment—I’d love to hear your heart.

“Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.”
— 1 Peter 4:10 (NIV)

Cleaning and Routines

Laundry Love: Blessing Family One Sock at a Time

Posted on May 20, 2025 by theselfcleaninghouse

I know laundry has a bad rap.
It’s never-ending, and most people don’t enjoy doing it. But I don’t mind it—actually, I quite enjoy it. It’s relaxing. It’s satisfying. You can do other things while the clothes are in the washer. Our great-great-grandparents didn’t have that luxury, so thank you, Jesus, for technology! I like the challenge of getting a stain out. I like seeing the row of clean shirts hanging in the laundry room.

The Summer of Scratchy Towels

I especially love hanging clothes outside in the summer when I can. My kids used to joke (or maybe it was complaining??!) about “scratchy towel season!” Hey, it was a free exfoliation to use those towels!

But oh, that smell of clothes dried in the sun—there is nothing better.

Blessing My Family One Sock at a Time

I didn’t always love folding clothes. But over time, I began to appreciate the simple rhythm of it—folding things neatly, matching socks, stacking fresh towels. It became a quiet, sacred moment in my day.

When my kids were young, I’d fold their laundry and think about them. And then I began to pray for them.

🧺 “A pair of jeans became a prayer for strength. A favorite T-shirt, a prayer for protection at school. Pajamas, a blessing for sweet rest.”

I wanted to bless them—not just with clean, wrinkle-free clothes, but with the covering of a mother’s prayer. Blessing My Family One Sock at a Time

The Hidden Ministry

It wasn’t glamorous. No one saw it.
But God did.

✨ “And He taught me something powerful: sometimes ministry isn’t loud or public. Sometimes it’s whispering blessings over a sock.”

The Season of Two

Now, my kids are grown. It’s just my husband and me in the house.
But I still fold his socks with love.
I still pray over the man who wears them.
The prayers are different now—sometimes deeper.
And they still matter.

Laundry as Love

Those everyday chores—the ones that feel endless and stuck on repeat—are actually acts of service.
A quiet ministry.
A blessing to those we love the most.

“As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace.”~1 Peter 4:10 (ESV)

A reminder that service—yes, even laundry! —is a way we reflect God’s grace.

👕 “Someday, they won’t be so hard. Your little ones will grow up. The laundry pile will shrink. But you will have blessed those kids’ socks off.”

A Word to You, Mama (or Grandma, or Just You)

Maybe you’re drowning in laundry.
Maybe your house is suddenly quiet.

Wherever you are today, hear this:

💛 God meets us in the ordinary.
There is holiness in the humdrum, if we let Him in.

I would love to hear of ways that you bless your family and ways that you let Him in!

Blessings,

Elizabeth XOXO

Cleaning and Routines

Santa Clause…Just for fun?

Posted on December 16, 2019 by theselfcleaninghouse

Today my blog has nothing to do with cleaning or keeping house. It may or may not offend some but it’s my story. I believe I am to share it. I hope it has an impact on someone’s life.

With tears streaming down my face and a terrible twisting knot in the pit of my stomach I ran to my mother after school and threw myself on her. I had tried so hard to hold it in since recess that morning when my world had been shattered and everything I believed to be true was ripped from me.

As many other kindergartners, I believed that if I was a good girl that Santa would bring me my Christmas wish, that beautiful blonde haired doll that drank a bottle and really peed her diaper! I looked at her in the JC Penny’s catalog every chance I got! I worked very hard to be nice to my brother and do my chores and be obedient to my mother.

That day, I was crushed. The boy on the playground told me that Santa wasn’t real. That parents just lie to get us to be good. I still remember it like it was yesterday. I don’t remember much from forty -eight years ago, but I remember that very clearly. Tim. He was smart and normally a nice boy. His mom was friends with my mom. Why would he lie to me? He must be lying…. my mother wouldn’t lie to me, would she? Lying is so wrong!

As I cried on my mother’s shoulder, she asked what was wrong?! I couldn’t get it out until we got home. She held me on her lap and told me that Tim had been right. Santa was just a story. I was just devastated. Confused and bewildered I asked why did you lie to me? Lying is bad! At this point my mother was just as heartbroken as I was. We both were in tears. It’s just supposed to be a fun story that children believe she said. She comforted me and eventually I began to feel a bit better but still didn’t feel right inside.

Nothing about this felt good. Thoughts continued to run through my head. I may have only been five, but I had been taught right and wrong and was no dummy. This Santa thing didn’t sit right with me.

That night my mother tucked me into be and we began to say bedtime prayers. A thought flashed in my mind and my eyes flew open. I gasped! This is just another lie! How can this be?! Jesus is who I talked to when I was scared or alone. He helped my mommy feel better when she was sad too! We had been through so much since daddy left but Jesus is what made us feel better. That sick feeling came back with a rush and I felt hot and the tears were flowing again.

Jesus isn’t real either I screamed!! My mother was taken aback. “Of course He is honey!” ” But you said Santa was real and he isn’t. I couldn’t see Santa and I can’t see Jesus. I tried to be good so I could get my Christmas present and I try to be good for Jesus. You said Santa could see me and Jesus can too! You LIED!” I cried.

My mom held me for a long time and we cried together. She asked me to forgive her for lying to me about Santa and promised to never lie to me again. She told me that God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit do exist and that Jesus had died to take my sin so that I didn’t have to “try to be good” to receive anything from Him but that He loved me unconditionally. She reminded me that I had asked Jesus to live in my heart and that if I prayed He would give me peace and understanding and that I would know for sure He was real.

We prayed together and Jesus did fill me with peace and I knew He was there with me and that He was not just a lie. I knew in my heart that He would always be there for me and that I wanted to live for Him and let other people know that He isn’t like Santa. He is real and He loves us so much that He sent His son to be born and live and give His life for us so that we don’t have to strive to “be perfect”. He forgives us and has paid the price for us. He gave us the best Christmas gift ever given. It is for that reason that we celebrate the birth of Christ!

I made a decision at five years old that I would never ever lie to my children. I would never tell them that Santa was real and that they had to strive to be good to earn gifts. I would never give them reason to doubt that Jesus was real.

When I grew up and had my girls, we read the “Night Before Christmas” and all the other stories of Santa and they enjoyed those stories just as much as they enjoyed all the other fairy tale books we read. We put out Mt Dew and cookies on Christmas Eve because our “Santa” liked Mt Dew better than milk! We put out “reindeer food” in the snow, knowing it was a wonderful gift to the birds. They enjoyed every minute of the Christmas season and never believed in Santa. They believe that Jesus was born and came to save us from sin and give us grace. They have never doubted it a minute.

I don’t write this to heap guilt on those who have told their kids that Santa is real, but just to share from a child’s point of view. Maybe you might rethink the story you’ve told. This made such a huge impact on me as a child. I have always felt it was important to share but had never written it out until now. I hope that it can help a parent or child somehow.

This year, give real thought to your Christmas traditions and remember the reason for the season!