An Ode to Laundry and other things I didn't figure in...

I dreamed about guitars and walks in the woods...and helping people. I dreamed about traveling to India or writing music and poetry. These were my grown-up dreams in college.

I loved college. I loved the soulful, beautiful people I met there. I loved the freedom of finding my passion in life. I loved my writing classes and my mentors. I loved being alone.

I did laundry in college...at the laundromat. Sometimes I used the campus laundromat. It was always full of fantastic people. Funny people, studying people, people folding jeans. I liked to sit on my dryer and just be with them all. Sometimes we'd go to an off-campus laundromat, toss our clothes in and run quick to the Baskin-Robbins next door for ice-cream.

I never dreamed about my future laundry. Laundry was not as dreamy as music and poetry...and certainly didn't have the altruistic pull of digging wells in third-world countries and feeding wide-eyed hungry children. My dreams were much more magnanimous than washing clothes.

A couple of years into college, my friends started pairing up. Some were getting engaged, some were getting married. I was reading Amy Carmichael books, contemplating a single life traveling to foreign countries to save the world, and writing. Do missionaries do laundry? A picture of humanitarian aid workers washing socks never entered my imagination...just dirt and sweat and pony-tails.

Then something entirely unsuspected happened. I fell crazy in love. Total misjudgment, I know. You just can't plan these things. One minute you're building your castle in the sky, next minute you're gazing into the blue eyes of your destiny. And you start dreaming together.

Ten years and four little blue-eyes later, dirt and sweat and pony tails are my reality. So is sock-washing. My dreams never really faded, they just evolved. In truth, they came in to focus. Writing and walking in the woods, seeing people loved and transformed...these are still at the core of my aspirations. Only now, I'm dressing a few of them in Halloween costumes and trying to remember to pre-treat the chocolate smudges before setting the wash cycle.

Not to say that there's never a tug-of-war between my dreams and the laundry, I feel it nearly everyday. I've just learned to love the challenge, to let it teach me. If the laundry is smothering my heart, I feel discontent trying to creep in. Patience with my children grows thin. Then I try to do exactly what I want my children to learn...shake my head, take a deep breath and have grace...on my growing self.

I'd choose the laundry again.