The Laundry Basket

It's laundry day. I'm carrying a basket of whites upstairs to begin the task of matching socks. I've piled the clothes too high for this small basket, but the bigger basket is almost too wide to fit through doorways, so I do my best to manage a careful balancing act. And just as always, one sock slips from the top of the pile onto the floor. I hesitate and consider leaving the sock where it is, but as a mom who wants to set an example for my children, I lean over to pick it up and out tumble several more socks and t-shirts.

Sound familiar?

The same is true with our emotions. As mothers, as grandmothers, as women in general, we pile our thoughts, fears, duties, and emotions into a tiny basket because we think it will be easier to manage. And when one emotion slips out, if we don't set aside everything else to manage it everything else tumbles out. We've all seen it happen - the nervous breakdowns, the crying in the bathroom, the anger that falls from our lips when there is a mess of wrinkled expectations on the floor.

What can we do? A wise woman told me to not try to 'solve' every problem that comes my way.

"So...what do I do?" I asked.

"You set all your worries, all your fears, all your stresses at the foot of the cross."

"Then what?" I asked.

She sighed patiently, then forced a smile. "Then you pray. Give those feelings to God. Lay them on the ground at Jesus' bleeding feet. Then pray."

I tried to glean more information from her about this, but she was tired of my slowness, hugged me (rather tightly) and told me to just try it.

It became a meditation, a practice of visualizing myself at the foot of the cross on that black Friday. I was surrounded by mourners, people who believed that Jesus was going to defeat Rome but was now suffering immensely under the piercing punishment of nails. Mary was next to me, crying as she, a loving mother, felt the same pain her son did. There I was at the apex of Christian history with my little problems and I was invited to lay them at the foot of that sacred cross.

I did. And Jesus bleed on my problems. He covered my worries, my fears, my stresses with his blood. His blood wasn't just spilled because of the fears of the Pharisees, but for you and me, for those who had died and needed a way to reach their Heavenly Father. My problems didn't go away, but they had been touched by Jesus in a very loving way and were no longer looming obstacles, but little pebbles I could step over instead of carrying them around in my shoes.

My little problem remains little if I set everything down and pray. One little sock on the floor no longer becomes a mess, but a moment of prayer. One little problem doesn't have to knock me over, but bring me to my knees. Everything, when done with God in my heart, becomes a worthy experience.