|Fun scarf, Mommy....|
"If by doing some work which the undiscerning consider "not spiritual work" I can best help others, and I inwardly rebel, thinking it is the spiritual for which I crave, when in truth it is the interesting and exciting, then I know nothing of Calvary love." -Amy Charmichael
Each day comes in and out with the same frequency much like the tides change. I know what to expect. Dirty laundry piled in the bathroom makes its way to the washer, and clean clothes make their way to the dryer. Heaping piles of warm laundry mound themselves like Mt. Everest on the couch until littlest tumbles the pile and the living room looks like we've had an eruption of Mt. St. Helens except she spewed laundry and toys all over the living room. Dishes have been done two times already, and the sink has a full belly full of suds glimmering rainbows in the light. "Normal is a setting on a dryer" (thanks, Patsy Clairmont), it isn't a word by which I can define any part of life, because really, what is normal?
I scoop up baby and swipe his soft head. He's growing so fast amid the dishes, the laundry, the cleaning. He follows me, crawling, as I make my way to wipe bathroom mirrors. He babbles and bubbles, and looks for his Mommy's eyes smiling. Here in this ordinary I'm reminded that there are no boxes for this kind of life. That all work--the dishes, the laundry, the cooking, the writing, the teaching, the cleaning, the loving-on-my-baby--is spiritual work. I fold my hands (and my laundry) and lift my heart in thanks and praise for the ordinary.