On chain laundering

-in which I get perspective on all manner of work.

Laundry has been on the brain for the last month or so. Who am I kidding: laundry has taken up a large portion of my mind, heart, and action for many years, starting with the time my precious husband accidentally shrank a precious sweater (raising the question of which was more precious in my eyes: man or object?). Laundry’s place in my life inflated to its largest when, ill-advisedly, I decided to try cloth diapering when I had two children in diapers…during seminary days. Though what it requires fluctuates, sometimes increasing its reign over my time, other times allowing me more freedom, laundry’s dictatorship will endure in my life until kingdom come (or I can no longer use my fingers. I am not praying for the latter option). So: I’m beginning a mini-series on laundry. Not the metaphorical version where I air mine or others’ dirty laundry - frankly, there’s been enough of that for me in my (former) circles the last couple of weeks. Nope. I’m talking about the stuff of daily faithfulness: the washing, drying, folding, and putting away of the garments and linens that wrap themselves around the precious bodies in my home and keep us clean and warm.

Did I lose you already? You may want to nip back in a few weeks when I’m done. OR hang in there, because my in-between-the-lines argument, the implications of the message, connect the dots back to the airing of others’ dirty laundry. It is raising a few questions for me.

What does a faithful use of time and words look like? What is a faithful use of a platform (ahem: my best platform at the moment is my wrap-around deck: 30 feet off the ground and a prime location for the line you see pictured)? What does laundry have to do with Christ (you know: the Son of God to whom all glory on heaven and earth is due) washing dirty, stinky feet? What does that mean for us, for me?

I may ramble through some of the above questions and add more through the coming weeks. I may pull on some other threads of story, a-chronologically depending on what comes to mind. I hope my rambling does you at least half as much good as I am sure it will do me.

Though I personified it above (and probably will continue to do so), Laundry can neither assert a benevolent or malevolent rule. Rather, I have come to recognize through reluctant epiphany: My own heart’s attitude and posture, my hurry and inattention to detail or my luxurious care over the non-glamorous mundanity, determine the outcomes. You will bear witness below to such a scenario in an essay (slightly edited) I wrote during our late seminary days, a season surprisingly close to what I’m currently experiencing:

2012

Today I had a mishap in the laundry room. I woke up aware of all the duties I have before me, the top of which was laundry, with curriculum writing as a close second. Feeling the list loom, I lumbered downstairs, lugging dirty linens, and began, bleary-eyed, to fill the drum of the washer. I had consumed a mere quarter of my first cup of coffee [do NOT try this at home]. Then, coffee mug in hand, it was time to sit down to write.

Thirty-ish minutes later, I returned to move my first of what is sure to be a chain of loads into the dryer [you've heard of chain-smokers? I'm a “chain-launderer”]...only to discover a bizarre array of unexpected objects in the drum, the most offensive of which was a large wad of steel wool.

My first thought was to blame Chip. As one of Covenant Seminary’s Maintenance Heroes (those with little boys will understand what I mean), he always has things like screws, bolts, Home Depot receipts, etc. in his pockets. (I am notorious for NOT checking pockets. I just refuse to believe that's a part of my job). As far as I was concerned, the blame was falling heavily on Chip’s capable shoulders. So, of course, I called him with my laundry woes as a sneaky way of sussing out who was at fault.

After a brief conversation, I found it wasn’t his fault. It was, truth be told....my [lack of coffee’s] fault. You see I hadn't realized that several things had fallen into the washer drum from a shelf nearby the previous evening when McKenna was doing resource research for a costume. I was so driven by my need to get things done, I hadn’t taken the time to do it well. I was moving by careless instinct instead of careful, measured movements.

And man have I paid for it.

[Judging by the amount of Maintenance Hero underclothing in the basket, I think the non-responsible Chip will be paying for it as well].

Steel wool must expand in the wash. I have plucked no less than 10 fist-sized balls of wool, not to mention a lint-filter full of steel fibers, out of the laundry machines. I am now re-washing the first load, whose fabrics would most aptly be described as a “cotton-[steel]wool” blend...

But here’s where proper perspective enters: I get to work at home. I am home to chase down extra loads of laundry (that I’ve made for myself). I’m home for my girls—there when they leave for school and when they return. I can stop and start my work according to their needs and the needs of our household.

We have prayed for stability, for simplicity, for part-time work that doesn’t tug against these things. And the Lord has answered our prayer.

I shared with our community group this week what I’m learning about God's refinement of us and of his timing. Sometimes, steel wool (both literal and figurative) must be applied to get through to me, to make my heart tender towards who he is and what he is doing in my (and our) lives.

Back to 2025

I’ve been teaching my youngest (who appeared in our lives three years after the original writing of the essay above) and old song from my childhood. It comes to mind as I contemplate the nature of work, the surprise of the sanctification process in it, what it means to humble myself—even to the point of careful (not chain-style) laundering that, in time, he may lift me up—

Teach us, dear Lord, to number our days

that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.

Oh, satisfy us early with thy mercy

that we may rejoice and be glad all of our days.

And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us.

And establish, thou, the work of our hands, dear Lord.