Sometimes the Spirit tells me I am doing a good job when I fold the laundry. I’m not sure why that particular chore seems to bring divine approbation. Maybe it’s because when I’m folding laundry I often remember the women in Ecuador, washing and wringing out their clothes by hand, hanging them to dry, then ironing out the wrinkles. We usually paid someone to do laundry for us, and on the few occasions when this did not happen I felt humbled (and, um, grouchy) by all the work. I promised myself that I would always be grateful for washing machines when I got home, and the folding of clean laundry helps me remember.
Or maybe it’s because I put it off for so long, till the piles spill all over my bedroom floor, and the Spirit approves of my finally bending to reality and getting the laundry done.
I don’t get the same feeling from dishes, or mopping, or vacuuming. Perhaps the irritation inherent in ironing makes it hard for me to feel the Spirit then. Lately I have also been feeling some kind of blessed state when I make dinner. I think it’s because I get cooking fatigue (dinner. again.) and God nudges me along and reminds me that it is a good thing to feed my family. It is a good thing to submit to the demands of taking care of my home, instead of chafing against them.
And this reminds me of a hymn, not included in our hymnbook, but I wish it were: Take My Life and Let It Be.
In the stack of sheet music I packed for my mission I kept a choral arrangement of “Take My Life.” My high school voice teacher gave it to me, and I’ve sung it through many times, on my mission (sorry, long-suffering companions) and since then too.
Take my life and let it be
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee.
Take my moments and my days,
Let them flow in endless praise.
As a missionary it felt obvious to me that every moment was consecrated to the Lord. Of course that was true–why else had I traveled across the world, except to serve? Every moment was intended to serve Him, and the ways seemed clear too.
As a mother I find it much more difficult to infuse every action with meaning. I love the insight that motherhood can count as feeding the hungry and clothing the naked. Where I struggle, though, is in the daily fulfillment of the lyricist Frances R. Havergal’s words. When he says “Take my life and let it be” mentally I put the emphasis on life. And maybe that’s what makes me chafe at the laundry pile, at the constant need to feed people, at the way clutter breeds and grows and I am never done.
I sometimes think of consecrating one’s life to God as exemplified by missionary work, by leadership callings, by walking barefoot to Zion. I do not wish to minimize in any way those examples of consecration. But that’s not where I’m at right now, and yet I’m still part of the covenant of consecration. Take my life, my life right now, as it is, and let it be made sacred to God.
I am still learning this, how to infuse a sense of purpose into chores that I mostly dislike. But every so often I will shake out a shirt, or a pair of hole-kneed jeans, fold them into neat piles, and find in my submission to the laundry a small piece of grace.
I’m wondering if I’m alone here–is there anyone else who feels the Spirit as they clean? Am I the only one who requires divine help to keep basic order?
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