Miss Krawf’s “Fast” Racing Crew

Some people don’t seem to like it.

It bothers them a lot.

They’ll ask her, “Hey, Miss Krawf, how do you put up with it?

Then one day she’ll hear, “How do you keep up with that man of yours?

“He’s always in such a hurry.”

Well, sometimes she does get a little tired of it, too.

But most times, she’s very proud of her fast pacers.

Or rather fast racers.

Ever hear of a rat race?

It’s not actually rats racing around, it’s humans that act like rats, scurrying around as though the cats are chasing them.

Thats why it’s called a rats race. 

To some people it looks like the Krawfs are always in a rat race, because they have so much going on at once.

And, well, they’re probably right about that.

They do have a lot of things going on at once. They’re usually racing against time to get everything done that has to be done every day.

But they’re wrong about the rats. 

Rats are going all the time, but they don’t get much done. They just eat and get fat and run and poop all over.

That’s about it.

Now, the Krawfs?

You’re talking about a different kind of race. 

A race that gets something done. Fast.

More like a car race.

Sometimes a little furious perhaps, and a mite haphazardly.

But it gets done.

Like, when Mr. Krawf decides Miss Krawf needs a little help from the racing crew with the dishes after a luxurious Sunday lunch that took her several hours to cook.

She does admit to feeling a bit weary by the time the food is ready to eat.

And so, when the offer comes to clean up the mess, she consents.

Somewhat apprehensively.

Miss Krawf has waited to fill her dinner plate until after everyone else has filled their plates and just started eating first course when, Oh.

The dirty dishes are being swished off the table, the dishwasher is being unloaded and reloaded with dirty dishes, so fast the dishes clang rather  loudly.

Miss Krawf holds her breath in fear a plate will fall and break.

The leftover food is being put in containers, dump, dump, plop, so fast it just takes one blink from Miss Krawf until it’s done.

She barely gets her plate wiped clean until someone swooshes it away from her and then, swipe, swipe, and… one more long swipe.

The countertop is swiped man fashion.

And that means fast.

“That should get it,” they say. 

Miss Krawf is finally done with first course and ready to decide whether she wants dessert now or later.

Well, they’ve decided for her.

It’s put away and there’s no dessert in sight.

Ahh.

Miss Krawf had looked forward to relaxing and enjoying her delicious dessert at a very slow pace but decided she’ll relax later when the men go out to feed the cows and gather eggs. 

And, then,

They’re done!

They all exit the kitchen without a backwards glance. Convinced they’ve done all that could need to be done after a meal.

Miss Krawf glances at the missed cups and misc items left here and there.

The table isn’t cleaned and the chairs are still every which way.

She runs her hands over the countertop and shivers a bit.

It still holds dried on eggs from breakfast that someone’s fast swipe has missed.

And there’s crumbs here and there.

She sighs, but then she smiles, and says, “Thank you so much, Guys! You really blessed my day!

And under her breath she prays, “Lord bless my crew of racers.

I”m not sure why they race through life so fast, and why they feel like they need to do everything so fast. 

But thank you, Lord, for the wonderful racing crew you’ve given to me as a gift.

Bless them for being willing to help me when I need them.

Thank You for giving them strong muscles and strong, brave hands that can move mountains of dirty dishes in so much less time than I can.”

Miss Krawf gets up and glances into the living room.

Mr. Krawf lies sprawled on the recliner, fast asleep.

Already.

“Oh my goodness.” She says quietly.

And goes to finish cleaning up her kitchen.

At her own pace.

As she wipes the countertops off, slowly and thoroughly, pushes the chairs in neatly, and gathers the last of the dishes into the sink, she tells herself, “I  don’t care what the guy in town says, or what other people say about my fast racers.

I love my fast racers. 

Even though I wouldn’t want to always move that fast myself, it actually comes in handy some days.

And although sometimes I do wish they would move slower, I do not wish to change them from who they are, to someone they weren’t meant to be.

God made them this way, and He wants me to accept them just the way He created them.”

Miss Krawf hangs up the dish rag, glances contentedly over her now clean and neat kitchen, and says with a little chuckle, “Well, today they actually  saved me quite a bit of time, those fast racers of mine. I’ll even have time to relax!”

And goes to find the dessert.

To eat it,

Slowly. 

At her own pace!:)