In Love with Laundry

I'm not a fan of maintenance: all those daily chores that grease the skids of life so we can eat and be clothed. I keep a fairly tidy environment because a lot of clutter makes me feel overwhelmed. But I don't enjoy it. I'm always rushing through those tasks so I can get to the real stuff - writing, or something equally joyful and meaningful.

This morning something shifted. I had to finish folding the laundry, which normally I would resent because it cut into my early morning writing session. But instead I found myself in love.

As I picked up each piece of clothing, I was struck by how this life - right here, right now - is filled with incredible purpose and beauty. Each garment represented a blessing:

• My teenage daughter's long black camisole: I treasured her amazing essence, and the fact that we get to have her around until she grows up and flies away, and that we can clothe, feed and support her. 
• My favorite black SmartWool Zip-T: I thanked the New Zealand sheep and the people who made it so that I can be both warm AND feel like a mysterious, gorgeous Secret Agent when I wear it.
• My husband's jeans: I felt the tough denim and appreciated the grueling work that he does everyday to keep us fed and sheltered. 

As I moved through the pile, tears rose up. Yes, friends, I cried folding laundry. Actual, full, real tears that required me to pause and blow my nose.

A song played in my head, Steely Dan's Only a Fool Would Say That:
"I heard it was you, Talking 'bout a world where all is free,
it just couldn't be, and only a fool would say that." 

If we extend the idea of "free" to be a world in which we choose to recognize that whatever we have is a gift, and to learn from the many difficulties that come our way, then I am happy to be exactly that kind of fool.

The kind of fool who can - on good days - celebrate the process of making this life. Even the laundry.