Laundry

I meet God everywhere these days, which is lucky for me, because the devil is hard at work, too. Yesterday God taught me why I love to fold laundry. I don’t care much for the washing and the drying, or the putting away. But I savor the folding, and I think I know why.

I love to categorize

To find patterns

To tidy things into groups and put them in order.

It feels good.

It offers a small sense of control as I cling to this tiny rock, hurtling through a vast universe toward an uncertain future. I do like to feel in control.

So let’s sort the laundry:

These are yours, and those are mine

These are my going-out jeans

And here are my comfy clothes. 

These need some extra attention (a missing button, a rip, a stain)

And those have been outgrown and can be donated.

Here are the hard-working towels 

And the soft sheets that receive us at our most vulnerable.

Shirts to cover our tops

Pants to cover our bottoms

Underwear to shield our sexuality

Socks to keep our feet warm.

I love the feel of the different fabrics as I fold. I appreciate each piece, and I am grateful I can choose what suits the season, the need, the mood. Different styles and sizes and fabrics and forms. What a privilege to have such variety.

Sometimes I find myself sorting people into groups, too. Mostly I wonder which folks I can trust, and which ones might hurt me or my family. I assume so much, but people constantly surprise me, and my community grows wider every day. 

Unlike laundry, we humans have selves and souls, energies and emotions. Thoughts, opinions, myriad interests and experiences. Memory. Trauma. Story. All the things that make us alive. We grow and learn and shift and transform. We resist categorization. Reject it, even. We are far too complex. 

And, in all of our glorious, messy complexity—our diversity—we are whole, humanity.

Robust and vibrant

Beautiful and ever-evolving

With infinite possibilities for connection.

I meet God everywhere, but I see the devil, too. The devil tells us to be afraid of the mess.

I’m thinking of those who pull the triggers,

Those who have been taught to turn their fear into hate and their hate into violence.

I’m thinking of the banned books

And the banned history

And the banned art

And the banned identities 

And the banned people.

I’m thinking of Brother Jones and Justin Pearson and Zooey Zephyr 

I’m thinking of Ralph Yarl

I’m thinking of Elijah McClain.

I’m thinking of Jordan Neely. 

I’m thinking of a child who sees an unfamiliar insect and shrieks, “I’m scared! Kill it!”

No. I will not kill what scares me. And I will not kill what scares you. I will not fear what I do not understand. I will not assume that different is a threat to my existence.

I will notice. I will explore. I will learn. I will walk with courage toward justice and with faith toward community.

I will allow my self—and yours—space to breathe, and I will entrust the mess of us to God.

The laundry will be there for me.