Laundry Turns the Tables

July 1, 2015

Some moms are naturally empathetic, inherently tuned into their child’s emotional and physical needs.  They marvel and cry tears of joy over the littlest things.  They feel depths of sorrow for every hurt feeling or skinned knee.

I’m not one of those moms.

Some moms comfort their children. I make mine pause for pictures.

I’m the wise-cracking mom who’s always walking the line between funny and inappropriate – and usually erring on the wrong side. I’m the mom who sometimes forgets to make sure her kids eat breakfast because, at 5 and 8, she thinks they’re old enough to manage that themselves – at least during the summer. I’m the mom who uses so much hyperbole that she makes improper and insensitive catch phrases to express, for instance, frustration, like, “Oh my gosh, I just want to kill myself right now!” and then her daughter repeats the phrase at school and is flagged by the school counselor for “psychological intervention.”

Yeah, I’m that mom.

One of my memes – pretty much sums it up.

I recently read an article from a facebook link.  Maybe you’ve seen it.  It’s been going around.  “This Is What Happens When Satan Steals Your Motherhood” made the point that motherhood is a gift and we should feel honored to care for our kids, instead of (like me) feeling put upon, most of the time.  And then I had an unexpected moment of clarity during a short exchange with my son.

My bathtub laundry service wasn’t keeping up with production in our house, so we had to go use real machines.  At one point, my five year old expressed a brief interest in what was going on and casually asked, “Mom, do you have my clothes in there, too?”  Winning the battle over my natural sarcasm, I simply replied, “Yep!”  He said, “Oh, cool!  Thanks, mom!” and took a drink from a nearby water fountain.

In that second, I had a flash of a very different life for that boy.  One in which he didn’t have a mom who would do his laundry or care for him, in general. Where he was on his own, at the ripe age of 5.  And I suddenly felt – something. It’s hard to label (or maybe it’s just hard for me to label because I’m not great with emotions).  It was like pride and humility at the same time – like I had the special assignment of helping this kid with something he was not able to handle by himself. It was a feeling of honor in willing sacrifice. Suddenly, laundry felt important.  And so did being his mom.

Goofball

Because I so rarely feel pride and honor in the little daily sacrifices of motherhood, I’m going to have to remember and hold onto that one glimpse I had of what it means to be a willing servant and maybe it’ll help me gain perspective when I’m feeling overwhelmed or cranky or unappreciated.

Of course, in moments like this, I can’t help but be reminded of the willing sacrifice that Jesus made for me when He allowed Himself to be brutally crucified to do something that I could not do for myself. The ultimate willing Servant and largely unappreciated sacrifice.

For me, parenthood offers so much more than meaningful interaction between people. It’s full of metaphors and insights into God’s relationship with humans and every time I choose to see it, God teaches me another lesson about how to be more like Him.  That day, laundry service turned into service through laundry.

Well played, laundry.  Well played.