I don’t do laundry. I’m not sexist. I don’t think it’s “my wife’s job”. It has just always (almost 14 years worth) been that way. She has not previously worked outside the home and so it just seemed to make sense that she would be the one to handle the laundry duties.
If you’re still reading, over the weekend I assumed the laundry duties! To quote Jeff Foxworthy, “Women may do 99% of the work, but men are more proud of their 1%.” And so began the lesson of the laundry. Honestly they were many… and almost constant.
First was the collecting. As I gathered the smelly, sometimes soggy clothes from the various piles I was reminded of how God must see certain attitudes and actions that I exhibit each day.
The sorting process reminded me that different situations call for different “temperatures”. I seem to see many situations in black and white. The reality is that there are different colors and fabrics that make my life much more complex than I am able to realize. Jesus knows I am bent this way. That’s why He teaches me to pursue things like forgiveness and love and childlikeness… all of which seem to be difficult for adult humans with black and white sight.
The folding – believe it or not – is right up my alley. I have a love for order (this is code for less-than-mild obsession). If you’ve ever been in my office, you know this. But this day as I folded the seemingly endless supply of clothing, I felt many things.
- I felt guilt that I have so many clothes while others in the world wear the same things for days & weeks at a time.
- I felt joy as I noticed the expanding sizes of the clothes I was folding… our children are growing up.
- I felt determination that I would not have to keep changing pants sizes to accommodate my growing waistline.
- I felt that I was very near to the heart of God as I thought about all these wonderful indicators of how our family is developing.
Hots and colds. Delicates and cottons. I am thankful for these lessons. Most of all I am thankful that on this day I found Jesus in the laundry.