Monday is Laundry Day

When I was first married, my sweet mother-in-law gave me a set of dishtowels that she had embroidered that provided me with a chore schedule, that if I had followed, probably would have changed my life. At the very least it would have led to a cleaner house. Monday was to be Laundry Day. At our house, laundry day is kind of on an as-needed basis and fortunately our girls have been good about keeping up with their own laundry - this might explain why they have copious amounts of clothes (particularly underwear) thereby enabling them to postpone doing laundry practically indefinitely. Sorry girls, your secret is out.


I have been thinking a lot about laundry lately, fortunately just during daylight hours. During college I worked at a hotel laundry and I used to dream sheets, towels and banquet tablecloths. And yes, that is why I can fold king-sized sheets neatly all by myself! I currently do my laundry in a cramped closet-sized space that is really just a hallway-ish room that connects the kitchen to the garage. I think the architect that designed our home got distracted and when turning in the plans looked them over one last time and said, "Dang, I completely forgot about the laundry room -- let's just stick it here on the way to the garage." Because of this, I am a little envious of those who have amazing laundry rooms -- like a friend who has two washers and two dryers in her laundry room, and a sister whose laundry room is ginormous and includes lovely built in cabinets and counters and storage. However when I think about my fore-mothers and their streams, rocks, iron pots, open fires, washboards, and wringers -- my cramped laundry room looks pretty inviting.

Sometimes when I do the laundry I become contemplative.

I have actually stood mesmerized watching the front load
 machine at the cabin.

I appreciate the discrete steps
the

gathering

sorting

washing

drying

folding

that my linear mind seems to understand.

Laundering has certainly changed through the years but one constant has always been the water -- I have to admit to being disappointed when we upgraded(?) to high efficiency washers. Don't tell the eco-police but I routinely used to set the water level one higher than was needed for the size of the load -- I loved the sound of the sloshing water and doesn't more water equal cleaner clothes? 

Apparently not.

There is something very satisfying about taking a basket full of dirty laundry and then being part of the process that transforms it from dirty to clean. I was recently visiting with someone and we started to talk about airing dirty laundry. Afterwards I thought about how we sometimes get overwhelmed literally and figuratively by piles of extra dirty, smelly laundry. I know because I have some -- but I am realizing that our dirty laundry doesn't need to be aired - it needs to be gathered, sorted, washed, dried, and folded. Transformed from dirty to clean. Perhaps the final step -- putting it away -- means getting rid of it, letting it go, repurposing it into something usable, or maybe even putting it back into storage to deal with at another time.

Water cleans our clothes and our souls.

(even the extra dirty, smelly stuff)

I believe it is found in

the baptismal font

the sacramental cup

in

believing

 the Living Water

As a child I often fell asleep on sheets that had been hung outside on a clothes line to dry. I love seeing clothes and linens, washed clean and air drying in the sun. Nothing is cleaner. Turns out our neighborhood doesn't allow clothes lines... we are all missing out. 

I think I got my best sleep on those sheets...