The Importance of Laundry

Today I’m doing the laundry. I only know one person who absolutely loves to do laundry (you know who you are, Christy.) It’s not my favorite chore, but I don’t hate it either. While waiting on the dark load to spin today, I took a walk through laundry lane.

It started the summer before third grade. The latchkey neighbor kids got to stay home alone while their parents worked. I helped them do their chores, which included folding laundry, so they could come out to play sooner. It was the coolest responsibility ever! And my first clue that someone had to do work to keep clean underwear in my drawer.

Fast forward to my young married life, where we did weekly laundry in a shared venue for the first several years. Sometimes at a public laundry mat and sometimes at community washers and dryers in our apartment complex. Why did they always have dirty black and white linoleum? My husband and I were in college and usually studied while waiting for the clanging machines to complete their cycles. We fed the dryer one quarter at a time until the towels were so hot you could hardly carry them to the folding counter we had just sanitized.

Then we got two laundry pairs of our own.  One pair was the washer and dryer out in the hot south Texas garage of our first home. The other pair was the darling boy and girl who more than doubled our weekly loads of laundry. Doing laundry was no longer a weekly event, but was crammed into the tiny crevices of our hectic schedule in bits and pieces.

In that era, we removed perfectionism from the laundry. My parents were perfectionist laundry people. When I was young, Mom designated Tuesday for wash day and clothesline drying, followed by Wednesday ironing day. On ironing day, she used a giant glass bottle of water with a sprinkler topper to re-dampen the clothes. She ironed the 100% cotton sheets until polyester cotton blend was invented. Even then she still ironed the pillowcases so they would be crisp that first night you laid your head on the pillow. So you can imagine the burden of laundry guilt I carried when one day I had a moment of enlightenment. I didn’t HAVE to fold the underwear, just because my mom did. I’ll never forget how liberating it felt to just fling a handful of undies into the drawer!

When our kids each turned 14, they were promoted from laundry helpers to “do your own laundry” scale of responsibility. It came with a few “cruel and unusual” and “none of my friends have to do their own laundry” critiques. But later when they went off to college, their laundry was not on our list of worries. The weekly laundry chore for my husband and me decreased back to the basic four loads: lights, darks, towels, and sheets. All in the comfort of a cheery room dedicated to laundry.

Now in the relaxed pace of retirement life, I’m experiencing the pleasure of doing laundry again like my eight-year-old self. The swish of the water. The fresh smell of the detergent. The time to do Pinterest while waiting to switch loads. The little ditty my dryer sings to me when it’s finished. The “all is well” sense of normalcy that comes from putting away clean clothes for another week and resting on fresh sheets tonight.

Nothing makes the clean sheets better than knowing my soul has been washed today as well. I John 1:9 [ESV] says If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

Jesus washes me up from the grime of my sinful humanity. He gives me robes of rightness because my own rags are filthy with wrongness. He never wearies of my coming to Him to ask forgiveness. I’m promised a full spiritual cleansing every time. Every day is laundry day for the soul. And nothing sleeps better than a clean soul on some clean sheets. 

What's in the Storehouse for You?

This week my husband and I drove through some backroads of central Illinois in search of fall foliage. We were a few days early so the leaves weren’t at their peak of color, but we soaked in some beautiful landscapes.

Small churches on short Main Streets

Amish gardens framed with autumn flowers

Golden leaves by still waters

Painted Sunsets

Little red barns

(ok I cheated – this is our own darling little red barn!)

As we drove through these scenic backroads in search of autumn, I was reminded of how much farmland there is in this part of the world. There is something about rural scenery that calls us back to simpler times. Actually they were pretty difficult times, but don’t mess with my nostalgia. Along one route we witnessed another sunset playing backdrop to a row of grain silos.

This collection of silos brought an Old Testament scripture to my mind.

But God made the earth by his power;

he founded the world by his wisdom

and stretched out the heavens by his understanding.

When he thunders, the waters in the heavens roar;

he makes clouds rise from the ends of the earth.

he sends lightning with the rain

and brings out the wind from his storehouses.

Jeremiah 10:12-14 [NIV]

Who knew that God stocked up on wind in his storehouses? Saving it up for gentle breezes and ravaging hurricanes. Job’s dialogue with God referred to treasures of snow and hail. God stores up the elements in His great abundance.

He also stores up good things for those who take their place walking beside Him. Psalm 31:19 [NIV] says: How abundant are the good things that you have stored up for those who fear you, that you bestow in the sight of all, on those who take refuge in you.

Friend, you might be in a place right now where you aren’t feeling like God has stored up good things for you.  You may have broken relationships. You may be struggling financially. You may be faced with an ugly diagnosis. You may feel overwhelmed with life’s daily cares. But I promise your Father has good things stored up for you. He’s waiting on the right time to bring them out of His storehouse. Take your refuge in Him.

Like grandma’s cellar shelves filled with jars of the summer’s overflow, He stores up good things for us. Then when we need something or sometimes when we least expect it, He goes to His storehouse and brings His bounty out just for you and me. Even more than a good father, He wants to give good gifts to His children. Blessings from His storehouse. A benefits package without measure.

I Want to be Buried Alive

I want to be buried alive. Ok, let me explain.

When I was twelve, I started growing things.  A popular decorating trend came along in the seventies that I implemented in the corner of my bedroom.  An aquarium garden. A variety of little green plants in a large clear glass fish bowl suspended from the ceiling in a hanging macramé holder. I felt part hippie and part green thumb as I watched my little plants grow.

Into adulthood, I continued to putter with things that grew in the dirt. But somewhere in mid-life I stopped.  I was away on business travel often and began to burden my family with keeping my flora watered. So I eliminated everything but the lowest maintenance plants.

Now with more time in retirement I’m growing things again. Last year I had a bumper crop of loofa to supply all my friends with the best facial scrub on the planet.  I’ve stumbled around with a flailing butterfly garden trying to attract monarchs to lay their eggs on my milkweed plants. My ferns and lantana and purple secretia have all gone wild. We began our fruit orchard with apple, lemon, and avocado trees for my husband’s birthday. Two out of three made it.

I love to think of the many rich spiritual analogies found in the Bible related to gardening. A favorite is the parable of the seed planted in different types of soil as the word of God is planted in different conditions of the heart. The Bible also compares our lives to seeds that must be let go and buried to reproduce.

This week another spiritual analogy came to mind as I planted a little celery plant in my garden. A few days earlier, I had placed the bottom of a bunch of celery in a bowl of water and it started regenerating itself just like Pinterest promised. A leafy celery top began to grow out of the stump, looking just like a miniature bunch of celery.

Like the new growth on the stump of celery, I have been regenerated in Christ’s likeness.

Ephesians 4:24 [NIV] says “and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.”

After the little celery growth got started, it needed to be planted in dirt so it could grow deeper roots downward and taller stalks upward.

Colossians 2:6-7 [NIV] “So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness.”

So that’s why I want to be buried alive. I want to plant my life in Him so he can continually regenerate me. So that my new growth looks more like Him and less like me. So I become so deeply rooted in Him that nothing can separate me from His love.  Growing tall and strong spiritually. And I hope to see you, my friends, growing in the row right beside me.  

From Sunrise to Sunset

This week my heart has been heavy for many.

First those in the path of another hurricane.  The rising death toll. The brutal loss of belongings and livelihood. Some who were just recovering from the damage of the last calamity. For some, losing everything means losing little. But everything is never small, is it?

Then closer to home, my heart was heavy for grieving friends. A childhood friend who recently lost her husband to cancer. Another friend whose child is fighting an illness with every breath. Another saying goodbye to a grandparent. It’s always too soon, isn’t it?

And then there were the strangers sitting near us in a support group. People that my husband and I had just met with whom we share a common problem. One new acquaintance felt as though life is being slowly taken away from him. Another was trying to find the silver lining in the new challenges. Everyone was getting used to a new normal they didn’t want. Change is hard, isn’t it?

In the midst of these lows this week, I saw a gorgeous sunset. And I remembered the praises of Psalm 113. Especially verse three that says:

                From the rising of the sun to its setting,

The name of the LORD is to be praised! [ESV]

Chapter 13 goes on to describe a God who is seated on high in all His glory above the heavens. And who else is like Him that He can also descend all the way to earth to be with us?

I want to praise that kind of God! I have known a few who have questioned why a good God allows such bad things to happen. We don’t know why. Jesus told us there would be suffering in the world. Nothing we can do will keep us from suffering. But we can praise Him through our suffering. A praise offered to God for just being God. No matter what. Every day. Through highs and lows. From sunrise to sunset. I will praise His name.

What Color is Your Ribbon?

We don’t always get to pick the color of our ribbon. Sometimes it’s dealt to us like a bad hand in a card game. Unlike award ribbons, awareness ribbons tell others that we are supporting a cause. Usually a cause that has gotten a little too up close and personal. Some of us got our ribbon as a child. Some of us lived a long time before getting our ribbon. But eventually most of us will get one. We may not have our own ribbon, but support a loved one by wearing their ribbon. My daughter attached 8 different colored ribbons to her graduation cap in support of relatives and friends who didn’t get to pick the color of their ribbons.

Last year I got the phone call announcing my ribbon color.  It was pink. I was standing on our patio where the phone reception is better and the view of our pond is peaceful.  It’s one of my favorite places in the whole world, but now there is a little spot by a plant stand that will always be the place I soaked in the news of my new ribbon. My husband stepped through the patio door and stood beside me, knowing the biopsy results from the one-sided conversation he heard.

It wasn’t the first time the pink ribbon had gotten personal. Nineteen years earlier my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. I remember that spot too. I was away on a business trip, sitting on the bed in a hotel room, when she called me with her news. Our family took on the pink ribbon for her for the next four years. Her diagnosis planted a hint of dread in me that woke up at every checkup.  So when I received my diagnosis, it was almost a relief to get it over with, in a weird sort of way.

I was blessed. Mine was discovered early. I live near one of the best cancer treatment centers. The support of my husband, family and friends wrapped around me like a warm blanket. My faith supplied strength and hope. Even though I couldn’t pick my ribbon, I could choose my theme scriptures for my pink journey.

The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.

He will drive out your enemies before you, saying, ‘Destroy them!’ (Deuteronomy 33:27)

The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me.

My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise him. (Psalm 28:7)

I know I can go down any path if He goes with me. Some days I skipped beside Him, feeling victorious and seeing life in more vivid colors than before.  On a couple of dark days, I laid on the couch and cried in His arms, “I didn’t want this ribbon.” Every day, I trusted in Him with that famous kind of peace. The peace that passes understanding.

I don’t know what color ribbon you might be wearing today.  I don’t know if it is for yourself or a loved one. I don’t know if you are walking your journey alone or with a great support system or with the Almighty Himself. But I do know you didn’t want that ribbon. I pray that you will allow the peace of God to be with you. Pick your theme scripture or quote. Ask for help when you need it. Shift life into a lower gear so you can reserve energy for treatment or caregiving. And someday when you’d rather forget about that chapter altogether, get your ribbon out. It may encourage someone else who didn’t pick that color either.