As I was standing in front of the ironing board last week back home in Indiana, pressing shirts for my dad and for my brother, I couldn't help but be grateful for the chance to starch their collars.
That sounds kind of ridiculous, right? Yeah, I know; I'm weird. But we live 650 miles apart. The fact that I could iron for them meant that we were together.
Before you start to get the wrong impression about my servant-heartedness, you should know that I'm kind of obsessive about ironing. I love the sizzling sound a hot iron makes against a misted sleeve; I love the swirling clouds of steam; and, mostly, I love the immediate gratification of watching wrinkles melt away into something wearable. That's not to say that there aren't plenty of things I enjoy more than ironing . . . it just means that, as far as housework goes, I don't mind it so much. So, there's really no glory to be gained from my contribution to the family to-do list. The real test is whether you can do a chore you don't enjoy and walk away a better person than when you began.
My grandma used to have this piece of folk art hanging above the sink in her kitchen with a corny poem that said something like, "Thank God for dirty dishes . . . ". Go ahead - google it. The message is kind of a hard sell to a kid who doesn't actually want to be standing in front of the sink. I always kind of assumed that Grandma nailed it to the wall one day out of frustration. I mean, come on, what kind of a saint actually means that day in and day out? But there is plenty of truth to be found in that simple poem. A kitchen full of dirty dishes is evidence of blessings indeed. Furthermore, if you can train your heart to actually view the piles in your sink that way, then the act of washing them becomes a way for you to participate in that blessing. As you balance each dish in the drying rack, you not only acknowledge that you are blessed - you actually become blessed.
To be honest, I'm really tired right now. I'm not sitting in front of my computer tonight because I have something profound to say, or because I'm so excited about the memory of ironing that I can't sleep. I'm just trying to toss something together because I think it's good for me to do it.
The reason that I tried to convince Team 308 to start blogging together is that, insofar as writing is just thinking on paper, the act of sorting through your thoughts in a coherent, presentable fashion is a healthy exercise. Habitually posting about the little evidences of grace in the context of our daily lives (ahem, "contextual grace") should shape the way we look at our circumstances, and eventually change the way we look at grace.
As with my ironing example, I actually enjoy writing, so I can't pretend to earn any kind of points by "forcing" myself to type this out. But I do hope that anyone reading this will be challenged to look at their day's to-do list with fresh eyes. Who knows what kind of blessings are waiting for you near the sink?
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