Life's stories connect lives
I drove home from a friend’s house Sunday, and I hit the stop lights on our main drag just perfectly to make sure every subsequent light turned red just as I arrived. At each stop I rolled my eyes realizing if I had just sped up a little before that first one, they would all have stayed green long enough for me to make it home five minutes faster.
No harm came from those extra five minutes, other than my own impatience, but the extra time did allow me some reflection. [Read more…]
“Are you talking to me? Todd often asks from the other room when I’ve thought of something random he simply must know. I just forget that something is blocking our conversation. Fortunately, for us, it’s just a physical wall or two.
Strong relationships demand clear communication. Often, daily frustrations come between parties and keep them from enjoying the freedom from misunderstanding. Sometimes simple things like bills or tight schedules get in the way, and we experience relief when that struggle passes. [Read more…]
Imagine my intrigue at learning of Swedish Death Cleaning. I mean, don’t you want to Google it now? I did, and I found out my own mother did a sort of Norwegian Death Cleaning of her own. [Read more…]
Our little Lana turned two on Monday, just a month after Zadok turned three. Those two make a dynamic duo that keep their mommy on her toes. Turns out, they’re apparently in training for cirque du soleil. At two years old, Zadok figured out a way to put enough graduated sizes of chairs and stools together to get on the counter and then the large microwave and finally to the top of the refrigerator. [Read more…]
I enjoy doing laundry. There. I said it.
I’m not sure why I find that task most dread so relaxing, but I do. I don’t always get it all put away, but I do eventually get it all folded, hung, and delivered to the right general locations in the house. That makes me feel accomplished.
Twenty years ago, Todd and I came to Michigan to a small bible school to train as missionaries, and we sold most of what we owned before coming. The school has a laundry facility, but we ladies had assigned times to access the space to keep everyone’s day rolling smoothly. I had the slot just before my friend Muffy.
By the time Muffy arrived, my washers neared the end of their cycles, and I had time to watch her meticulously attack her youngest’s baseball uniform. Muffy took her laundry seriously, and we chatted while I watched her impressive skill with a brush and pre-soak. She could get stains out of anything.
I remember one day when her husband Everett dropped off their laundry early, and it sat there waiting for Muffy’s arrival. I had finished mine ahead of schedule and already had my laundry in the dryer, so I thought I’d give Muffy a hand. I carefully followed her methods and was pretty proud of myself when she arrived to find her laundry, sorted and prepared exactly as she would have done it. She taught me a lot.
Her face showed the shock, and I told her not to worry, that I had done it exactly the way I had seen her do it. She simply said, “I wish you hadn’t.” She wasn’t rude, just matter of fact, and I knew never to touch Muffy’s laundry again.
All these years later, as I do my little grandson’s laundry, I realize what I took from Muffy that day. You see, laundry marks growth in our children’s lives. That’s where a mama sees the dings and injuries of her children’s lives as she removes the stains incurred as life knocks them around a bit. She watches as brand new clothes come in for the first time and all too quickly make their way to the donation pile, outgrown by the rapidly expanding waistlines and leg lengths.
Now I know the most important lesson I learned came from her son Tom’s baseball pants, almost always caked with mud and grass stains. That mama was telling her Tom, “Play hard, Son. The one who loves you will handle the stains.”
…and that’s the view from My Front Porch