laundry bliss

Today has been laundry day.

By that I mean that nearly every waking moment of today has been spent in or near the laundry room.  Yes, I've prepared (and eaten) meals, cleaned up dishes, helped little ones dress, read stories, put the baby down for a nap, but as each of these things were accomplished, I dashed off as quickly as I could down to the laundry room to check the status of the washer and dryer, buried my nose in clothes just out of the dryer to check their freshness, folded another load before they cooled and wrinkled, sorted, stain treated, stain treated again.  

I am still in my pajamas and haven't showered (which I normally can't stand), because I don't want to interrupt the laundry cycle.  I have resisted the lure of the playful breeze outside and the delight of grubbing in the dirt, foregoing the pleasure of being a part of planting the garden, captured by the siren song of the spin cycle.

And it has been bliss.

Really.  I never knew laundry could be so much fun.

Even Jim seems to have a fresh relish for the laundry process, heading down occasionally to the recesses of the basement and then coming up to tell me, "You ought to see that spin action!"

What has turned an ordinary household chore into a source of such enjoyment?

Well, for the first time in many, many months, the washer is working the way it is supposed to.  Thanks to about $300 in parts, and the hard work and know-how of my husband, I am not standing in a puddle of water when I approach the washer, and the machine is actually spinning out the loads, getting clothes clean!  I can actually fill the washer to a "super" load and expect results.

BLISS.

The pile on the laundry room floor is... still a pile, but it is shrinking!  

Stacks of clean, folded clothes are waiting to fill little girls' drawers (practically empty as our laundry dilemma had reached crisis point in the last two weeks).

Fluffy, white towels exude a freshness that will not make one feel the need to bathe again after one's bath. 

Dishrags occupy the kitchen drawer so that I will not have to ruin another washcloth in kitchen tasks.

And I've been waiting for weeks to salute the arrival of spring by switching out espresso flannel sheets for crisp, white cotton edged in eyelet.  (Tomorrow?!)

As I have been enjoying a fresh perspective on a normally humdrum task today, I thought back to a book I read in which one of the characters always hummed or sang, "Whiter than snow, yes, whiter than snow" on her wash day.  And I couldn't help but think about the dirty laundry of the soul and the way that grace is somewhat like a washing machine that never malfunctions.

There is such joy in the simplicity of being able to take my heart made dirty by sin to Jesus and to have it made clean again by washing with His blood.

When life gets messy, and the overflow of my heart reveals grace need, I don't have to ignore the need or call it something other than what it is.  I don't have to mask the offending odor by putting a clothespin on my nose or overlook the grime by squinting or wearing sunglasses!  I don't have to take out the stain stick and get to work on myself.  I don't have to scrub myself raw on the washboard of condemnation and guilt.  

All I have to do is come to Christ and ask, once again, for cleansing, for forgiveness, for renewal.

Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
 and cleanse me from my sin!  

… Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
 wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.    

Psalm 51:2, 7

It's mine.  Real, fresh, powerful clean.  


LORD, be pleased to make my life exude the freshness of the fragrance of Christ!

My sin - oh the BLISS of this glorious thought -

my sin, not in part, but the whole,

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more!

Praise the LORD, praise the LORD, oh my soul!

BLISS.

Oops, gotta go.  I just heard the buzzer on the dryer.  Bring on the dirt!