I want to turn around and run. This is a combat zone! But where? It's a couple of hours before midnight. Maybe I can just simply roll and... snooze off, hoping that by the time I wake up, the good Lord has turned all things new... or sorted out, ironed and folded. Ha!
So I go to the other part of the house where I usually feel welcome. Maybe a cup of tea and some cookies (and a teeny bit of chocolate) can relax my nerves, enough to get the job done.
To the kitchen I go. And I get more mortified. Right there on the sink is a towering giant made of dishes, pots and all sorts of oddballs one can usually find in the kitchen. They have piled up on top of each other, and those who have not been able to get to the pile are piteously crawling their way around making more mess to make up for their lost status in the kitchen kingdom.
All right. I'm taking it too far. But the duties of a domestic queen is not for the faint hearted (read: lazy) and can be downright daunting.
I often find myself dreaming of the time I would be free to do 'more important' tasks. (Which, do not include soap bubbles.) Not menial, not so ordinary.
Doing the dishes at midnight does not sound cozy, but ironing, yeah, at midnight is sort of warmer. But as I stare at the clean, but twisted mounds of clothes, and as I bravely tackle them most nights as the rest of the family sleep, my mind brings me beyond what is obvious and onto something worth dwelling on.
What if laundry is not just laundry but a process of making something good and beautiful out of chaos and ugliness?
Right-o!
In a minute, I have my hand on the iron and my mind on the thought. As the iron smooths out one garment after another, my mind races, seeing something out of all those clothes.
Many think that being a Christian means being trial-free. But I'm sorry to say that it isn't so. God, though, promised that His grace and strength are ours and is sufficient for every trial. I remember reading (and I'm sorry I can't remember who wrote it or where I read it) that often our lives as Christians resemble that of being in a washing machine. We get pre-washed, washed, agitated, soaped, spun. And just when we thought we had enough and we are okay--- just because there was a pause--- we go through another spin cycle again. And again--- rinsed, spun, twisted, machine dried or hanged out to dry under the heat of the sun.
Then, crumpled, wrinkled, stretched way out of proportions, we are ironed and smoothed out with loving Hands.
That's where the beauty is. Just when we thought we have nothing left in us--- nothing at all--- God looms the largest, and we find that we had Him all the time. And that's when we exchange our "ashes" for His beauty. We come out as gold tried in the fire. We smell good, look good but not after we have been turned inside-out and upside-down to shake us out of every sin--- done in secret or otherwise.
May God give us the desire to beg with Him like king David did,
"Who can understand his errors? Cleanse me from secret faults" (Psalm 19:12).
And pray like he did,
"Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, O Lord, my strength and my Redeemer" (Psalm 19:14).
"Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow" (Psalm 51:7).
You might also like to read...
The Beauty in Everyday
Dealing with the Small Things
Hands On (and More) Part 2
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