I’m jumping in with a group of writers to take the Five-Minute-Friday challenge. Basically, we are given a prompt, then turned loose to write for five minutes before posting to a link and sharing our raw thoughts with others. Want to join us? Click here to check it out: http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/
noun: clothes or linens that need to be washed or that have been newly washed
I remember years ago during a women’s meeting at church when we all were just making small talk. The icebreaker question of the day was, “What’s your favorite household chore?”
My answer was the “laundry.”
I couldn’t help but smile when someone innocently asked, “What day of the week is your laundry day?”
As the mother of five young children, I quipped, “Day of the week? Well, how about Every Other?”
Laundry was one of the chores that was never-ending. No matter how many little jeans or shirts I’d washed and hung out to dry, then folded and tucked away neatly in drawers, there was the continuing pile filling the basket the moment I emptied it.
Dirty clothes always needing washed the minute I cleaned them.
Kind of like my heart.
Some days it seems I have more “dirty laundry” than others, but thankfully, I have a Savior who continues to care for the issues in me that need to be cleaned. In fact, I wonder if He doesn’t somehow take pleasure in the task – perpetually cleansing the stain of my waywardness and making me fresh and new. Rejoicing in extending righteousness to me once more.
No matter how many times my basket overflows with filthy rags, I am certain to go through the wringer of God’s grace. This great exchange of redemption as all is made right. And I can’t help but wonder if God enjoys this divine laundry process as much as I enjoy the simple task of washing clothes.
I wonder if the scent of a freshly-cleaned heart is as satisfying to God as the scent of line-dried apparel is to me. That springtime fragrance that reminds me of home no matter where my feet may be in the moment. That luring smell that makes me want to snuggle up against my husband beneath spring-fresh sheets; or wrap a baby in a clean, fluffy towel and hug her close; or simply draw in a deep breath as I bury my face in the newly-clean scent of a shirt that is now adult-sized like the toddler-turned-man who calls himself my son.
If there’s one thing that is guaranteed, I will always have dirty laundry that needs to be cleaned, both physically and spiritually…
Good thing my laundromat is open 24/7.