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That’s right: still on the hanger.
My ears burned red.
My eyes pinched and squinted.
I breathed out a mumbled and venomous, “Youuuuu kids…”
Balling my hands into clenched fists, I whipped around looking to give someone a piece of my mind about respecting the work that mom does for the family. Didn’t they KNOW how long it takes to collect the dirty laundry, sort it, wash it, dry it, fold it?
I felt taken-for-granted and my flesh wanted justice.
But no one was to be found. Instead, I looked outside and found our little ones trolling through spring grass, laughing and running with summer capes surfing the breeze behind their dirty feet.
I breathed in deeply and watched them: I watched them being kids in May.
It isn’t about working for my own image-making, for my own glory, or to somehow ensure my own ease.
It isn’t about mounting up a list of “look what I did for you!!”
And while that doesn’t mean we let our kids off the hook with their chores or with learning responsibility, it means that my heart needs to change.
Because in whatever I do:
- scrubbing floors
- making yet another meal
- grocery shopping
overduelibrary books …
“Whatever I do…” Colossians 3 tells me that I’m really doing it for Jesus.
Suddenly that hamper doesn’t fire me up so much. And those dirty floors look a little different.
Because suddenly, they’re an opportunity for me to serve.