Every Thursday night we gather to write on one word. We only get five minutes and then we stop. Right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, and we publish raw words. Tonight, these are mine on laundry. (I know. Really.)
Five doors and two flights of stairs separate me from the laundry room. It’s really not that far, but lugging the hamper down and then back up when the machines are full is a pain. I sigh and mutter under my breath, “remember to check back in 27 minutes. don’t forget this time. again.”
And I will. I’ll forget, like always. I begin the homework and write the papers, create powerpoints and respond to all the emails, and then another day has passed and I wake up once again without clean socks.
Flip-flops it is.
The wash, rinse, and repeat of life feels so mundane, so ordinary.
But then people like Lisa-Jo talk about laundry. They dream big and invite us along. In just 12 hours a project – for laundry in Africa – was completely funded.
It just goes to show that nothing is too little, too unimportant, too every day, that it can’t become a treasure, a mile marker, a reason to worship.
I want to remember this. I want to think of this as I make my bed and fold my clothes, brush my teeth, grab a jacket and head to class. As I pull up a fresh page to begin another paper and pour the cereal for yet another late night homework snack — I want to remember that there is nothing too small, too ordinary, that it can’t bring us to a place of worship before the Lord.
He is worthy and He is way closer than five doors and two sets of stairs.