Laundry today or naked tomorrow.

What is wrong with being naked?

At peak laundry in our home, we had: a teen girl, three boys including the youngest who was still a toddler, and two parents. Our home was open to friends and family and dogs and chickens and ducks and tons of dirt. We did mountains of laundry. Mount Laundry is a thing.

We are on our third washer and dryer set. The dryer is on the decline.

There were days that I didn’t do laundry. I just let it pile up in the laundry baskets overflowing on the floor until we were without decent clothes for public. Then I would spend all day washing and drying. The most loads in one day were six. Six. Washing. Drying. And storing in the clean laundry basket until company came over. Then we would all make Mount Clean Laundry and conquer that till it was gone.

And that laundry basket is the Biblical equivalent of your cup runneth over. It is rarely empty and usually somewhere in the living room. Every time my children did something cute and I grabbed my camera, the damn laundry basket was in the picture. Like it was the focus of what was going on and not the cute kid.

That laundry basket is an ever-present reminder that clothes will ever need washing, drying, folding, and put away. ALWAYS. It is an ever-present reminder of the daily in this sacred space.

For years, I tried to angle the photo to cut the basket out. Putting the clothes away didn’t seem to enter my mind. I was too busy being in the moment with the kids. Eventually we put them away. May be that day or the next. Time is relative.

And slips by too fast.

You think you’ll have little ones forever. But you won’t. You think your home will always be chaotic. But it won’t. You think you’ll never have time. But you will. And you will want that chaotic, crazy, cluttered time when the kids were little. Even if there is a laundry basket filled with clothes in the living room.

The basket has changed. I’m sure my first one was destroyed by the boys when imagination became reality. I lost a few over the years, maybe gave one away or just relegated it to hold camping gear in the outside shed. The basket is nothing special. A receptacle to hold the dirty and the clean.

Like my heart.

The clothes have changed from newborn to toddler to trying to keep up with the growing children or the “let’s try this” new outfit parents. I have thrown dry clean only in the basket. And ruined it. I have mixed colours and fabrics. I have thrown muddy clothes and washed them several times. They still came out with dirt.

The basket has been used for more than laundry. It made a great stool for little ones. The boys used it as a race car. Pushing and pulling each other filling my home with extreme glee. Their imagination knew no bounds with the basket. A hiding place, a space ship, a cave to explore, a prop for whatever they were playing at the time. The purpose need not make sense to me or anyone else. The laundry basket was there to serve them.

We are not to serve the laundry basket. It is a thing. A useful thing. But just a thing.

Two children have their own laundry basket in their own apartments. Now all the children do their own laundry when they have nothing decent to wear in public. And they are learning of the ever-present reminder of the daily in the sacred space. Somedays, laundry gets put away. Somedays, laundry stays in the basket. And it is fine. Because time is relative.

And slips by too fast.

Laundry will always be there. Seriously. But that baby giggling demands your attention. Because baby giggles fade to memories. That teen who needs you to listen to their hurt will find solace somewhere and now it needs to be in you. In a few brief years, it will no longer be you or your home. That man who has worked all day to come home to crazy, chaotic, cluttered home and starts dancing to the wild beat of your home – join him. Soon, it will just be you two working on why you were married in the first place. Because relationships are always more important than anything. Including a laundry basket in the living room.

Life is not laundry. Laundry is not life. It is a tool that serves you and your family and your life. You are not laundry’s servant. Maybe I’m justifying my less than clean and organized life. Perhaps I am making a life lesson where there really is only a simple chore. It’s possible, that I am simply lazy.

And laundry is a thing that must be done. Like children growing. Relationships changing. Time flowing forward. And that simple laundry basket is the ever-resent reminder of the daily in this sacred space.

Yes, for my children’s sake and mine, put the laundry away. But, if your baby is giggling, snap that photo even with the laundry basket. If your teen is talking, drop the laundry and listen body, mind, and soul. If your husband wants to dance, kick the basket to the side. You’ll get it picked up and put away. The laundry is your servant.

Your relationships are your treasure.