Because I have an incredible husband. I’ve hardly folded any laundry in the past year. Each night after the kids are in bed, he grabs the basket of clean laundry and folds while I melt into the couch and scroll Facebook, or read a book, or write a blog post. We chat about our days as his strong hands fold the tiniest baby clothes. He makes me laugh while he smooths the wrinkles from my favorite jeans. Whatever we discuss, serious or in jest, it’s one of my favorite times of the day.
But this week has been rough on Kevin. He’s due to have knee surgery on Thursday (prayers, please?) and has been really tired at night. Meanwhile, I’ve kept up the nightly couch-melting until tonight, when I saw him tiredly limping in from the garage with three full baskets of clothes. I was reminded of that old saying that marriage is never 50/50; sometimes it’s 30/70, sometimes 60/40. Whatever the season of life, one spouse usually fills in the gaps by helping the other.
So I sat down to do what I used to dread and was overcome with a sense of wonder. Tonight I didn’t begrudge this task like I used to. Thought after thought, memory after memory rolled through me as I picked up each piece of clothing. And I was reminded:
that my children are still so small.
but they’re growing out of their clothes (and sometimes into their siblings’).
that those rips and tears came from scraped knees (and how fragile my babies are).
that they hugged me in these clothes. Loved me and forgave me for yelling or being impatient.
that Kevin bought that shirt at the concert 17 years ago where I fell wildly and madly in love with him.
that they are still small enough to stain their clothes with their favorite foods (pizza and ice cream) and that we really need to eat more veggies tomorrow.
that I made it to the gym 3 times last week for the first time in 9 months.
that folding all these clothes is a sign of our abundant material blessings.
to thank my husband again and again for taking on this daily task.
And as I meditate on it all I am stricken that right then, in that moment, I was doing holy work. The laundry, the dishes, the menial labor. It is good and holy, when given in loving service to my family.
Just to have that awareness feels like such a gift from God, I know that I need to fit more laundry in my life.