The Launderer

When we moved into the house we live in now, we were the second owners.
The original owners who built the house were very tall.
They were much taller than my husband and I.
Consequently, our kitchen counter tops and island are higher than most, which I appreciate.

Many of the choices that were original to the house were exactly what I would have chosen.
The woodwork is stained rather than painted.
Crown molding runs along the living room and dining room.
Beautiful built-in shelves are strategically placed.

There is one thing that I would have changed.
One thing that I think most women would change.
It is the laundry room.
The laundry room next to the kitchen is the most used room in the house.

My laundry room has a door to the garage and a door to the outside.
My laundry room has a coat closet and one of our downstairs powder rooms.
Despite all those doors, my husband made adjustments to my liking.
He added cabinets and used an alcove area to install high wire shelf.

On top of that shelf I have some old tins but from that shelf I can also hang things.
In our family, the dryer is used only for towels, underwear, and socks.
All of our shirts, jeans, dress pants, and skirts are hung.
Being tall, we can’t afford to lose inches if something shrinks in the dryer.

Come through my laundry room on any given day and you will see laundry.
Clean, fresh smelling laundry, but clothes are hanging nonetheless.
When everyone was home, that room got the most use.
It was the place for wet boots and wet mittens.

It was the place for bathing suits to dry and shirts waiting to be ironed.
It was the pass through, the mud room.
It was the place on a winter’s morning where the children would congregate.
They would all be looking for those mittens or that hat all at the same time.

As five children got older and taller, I needed to buy a hanging rack on wheels.
From there, with its adjustable height, I could hang all the jeans I needed to hang.
When the laundry was all finished, I would place the folded things in piles on the kitchen table.
The kitchen table needed to be used for dinner so the laundry needed to go upstairs.

A method to my madness.
A way to ensure that the laundry got where it was supposed to be.
Piles in their rooms after I had washed and folded the clothes was not acceptable.
Somehow the system worked and patterns were set.

As each of the children went off to college, the amount of laundry diminished.
There was much more room but in my mother’s heart that was not a good thing.
The shoes that used to be on the back stairs that is in the laundry room were gone.
There was too much room and too much empty space.

I do not like to iron, though I do out of necessity.
However I love to do laundry.
I find it so satisfying to see everything fresh and clean.
I find it so satisfying to smell the clean laundry as I fold it.

My youngest son came home for two days.
I love the one-on-one time with my children.
I love not watching the clock and being able to talk for hours.
I love hearing their heart, uninterrupted.

You can bring your laundry home if you want to, I said more for me than for him.
He did, though he didn’t have too much.
I walked through the laundry room the next morning and smiled.
There were his jeans that fit his tall frame; there were the shirts that I recognized.

How can the sight of hanging clothes warm my heart? I mused.
It is not hanging clothes, I concluded.
It is their hanging clothes, the clothes of the ones I love.
I sighed a contented sigh, knowing I hit the nail on the head.

When my youngest daughter has an event at college I ask her, What are you wearing?
When she tells me, I immediately know the exact outfit she is talking about.
I’ve probably washed that outfit hundreds of times.
I’ve probably mended it, or sewn on some buttons.

I have no explanation as to why their clothes hanging in the laundry room make me smile.
Except, washing the clothes of someone you love is a very personal thing.
You would not have just anyone wash things that no one even sees.
There is an amount of trust and appreciation that goes along with it.

I have country signs hanging in my laundry room.
One says, Patches 5 cents.
I smile when I look at that because I think of all the money I would have made by now.
Another sign says, Laundry Room, 25 cents a load.

I’d be rich, I laugh to myself.
Oh, but I am.
Richer than you know.
I had the pleasure and privilege of taking care of my family for all these years.

To some it may just be laundry.
To me it was a way to show love.
To some it might be mending clothes.
To me it was caring about the way they looked as they left the house each day.

Now Joshua was dressed in filthy clothes as he stood before the angel. The angel said to those who were standing before him, “Take off his filthy clothes.” Then he said to Joshua, “See I have taken away your sin and I will put rich garments on you.” (Zechariah 3:3,4)

We need to remember that there is One who does our laundry.
There is One who took off our dirty clothes and put His clean clothes on us.
There is One who clothes us in the rich garments of His righteousness.
The One who launders is our Lord Jesus.

Jesus makes sure that we are mended.
Jesus makes sure that we look appropriate as we go out each day.
Jesus makes sure our clothes are clean.
Jesus takes all that dirt and grime and filth on Himself and clothes us in His righteousness.

And we are clean.
No amount of payment could ever compensate the One who did our sinful laundry.
As a mother, I was more than satisfied with a kiss and a hug.
As our Lord, He is delighted when we believe in Him, our Launderer.

Rejoice!
In Him, you are clean!

2 responses to “The Launderer”

1. I love this! You surely love being a mom! It’s funny how our memories pop up at different times. One of my favorite was the smell and feel of my girls after a bath and in their fresh-laundered jammies. I loved being a mom too.

   Reply

   • Yes, Sue! I love being a mom!
     No matter what we do, there are stories and memories everywhere throughout our day. As we notice the littlest thing, as we go through life aware, we will find such treasures in our memories. The ordinary becomes such a gift.
     Gina

     Reply