A Little Laundry
It seems like the laundry is never done. At least two days a week, I trudge up and down the basement stairs to wash and dry the clothes, Bill's, Levi's, and mine. Thankfully, Victoria does her own. And, I'm beginning to think that it won't be long until Levi will learn how to do his own laundry. I'm just not sure if I'm ready for the amount of supervision that will require...
I really shouldn't complain. I have a large, front-loading washing machine and a matching dryer that do their jobs quite well, most of the time. All I really have to do is sort the laundry, carry mine and Bill's to the basement where I combine it with Levi's, which he is supposed to have tossed down the laundry chute from the second floor hallway. Then, it's just a matter of switching loads between the washer and dryer, folding the laundry into a couple of baskets (assuming that Levi and Victoria have returned them to the basement) and putting Bill's and mine away. Levi needs to tote his own basket up the two flights of stairs to his bedroom, where he is supposed to put it all away, where it belongs. Unfortunately, his definition of "put away" does not always agree with mine.
Some of Bill's shirts need to be ironed, but I can usually get by with pressing only the collars and plackets, along with the sleeves of his short-sleeved shirts.
When I think back to my mom's laundry days, when we lived on the farm, I realize that I should be grateful for modern laundry appliances and detergent, as well as modern fabrics that don't need to be ironed. It wasn't nearly so convenient for Mom to use the old wringer washer on the farm. On warm mornings, she would wheel it outside so she could work in the sun, carrying buckets of hot water from the kitchen before running each load through the washer, then squeezing the water out of each piece of clothing with the hand-cranked wringer. Next, she hung the clothes on the backyard clothesline, clipping them securely with wooden clothespins. In the winter, she used the washer on the enclosed back porch, but the clothes still needed to be hung up to dry, on the outside clothesline if the weather wasn't too bad, but often inside, on clothesline she strung across the small back porch and kitchen. Later, the laundry needed to be pulled off the clothesline and brought inside, where she would sprinkle the clothes, all except the underwear and socks, with a little water, and roll them up in a laundry basket, ready to be ironed the next day. It's no wonder she only did laundry once a week!
Of course, we didn't have nearly so many clothes as we have now, and Mom took care of our clothes, spot cleaning when necessary so we could wear them another day before putting them in the dirty laundry basket. Today's easier methods of laundry, combined with a surplus of leisure activities requiring specific clothing, have contributed to the need for multiple walk-in clothes closets in many homes.
Even Mom's wringer washer was a significant upgrade from the washboard laundry method of the nineteenth century. It wouldn't be much fun to rub each piece of wet clothing back and forth on a washboard, before rinsing it and wringing it out by hand so it could be hung up to dry. Afterward, everything needed to be ironed, of course, to remove the wrinkles. Back then, an iron was literally a shaped piece of heavy iron metal, which was frequently exchanged for a different, hotter iron that was waiting on the wood-burning cook stove until it was needed.
Until the middle of the twentieth century, doing the laundry was a two day job that provided quite a workout. But it was still easier than the previous original method of washing clothes in a river, using rocks instead of washboards. I can't imagine wearing fishy-smelling clothes, but that must have been much better than wearing just a few clothes that were only washed a couple of times a year. And when I think about the stories of children being sewn into their long winter underwear every fall, and not shedding that long underwear until several months later, all I can say is "ewwww!"
I remember running joyfully through the laundry hanging from the clothesline on the farm. When I was a little older, I liked to help Grandma Wegner hang out the laundry on her neighbor's clothesline, and I recall dashing outside to pull the clothes off the line, quick before it rained. I love the smell of freshly washed sheets that have been flapping in the breeze all day long; I wouldn't mind installing a clothesline in my own backyard, just so I could hang out the sheets in the summer.
I am so glad, though, that I can clean my family's dirty, stinky laundry with a minimum of effort. I wouldn't want to do without my washer and dryer, any more than I would ever want to do without the Savior who makes me clean. I have to wash clothes often, at least twice a week, but he took care of my filthy sin problem, and yours, too, once and for all, when he died and rose again. This comparison is barely adequate, because it can't begin to explain what he has done for us. It wasn't easy, by any means, but his selfless sacrifice was surely the most effective cleansing of all time--way better than any mere washing machine, because once was enough for all time. Jesus has made us clean!
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin. Psalm 51:2
I really shouldn't complain. I have a large, front-loading washing machine and a matching dryer that do their jobs quite well, most of the time. All I really have to do is sort the laundry, carry mine and Bill's to the basement where I combine it with Levi's, which he is supposed to have tossed down the laundry chute from the second floor hallway. Then, it's just a matter of switching loads between the washer and dryer, folding the laundry into a couple of baskets (assuming that Levi and Victoria have returned them to the basement) and putting Bill's and mine away. Levi needs to tote his own basket up the two flights of stairs to his bedroom, where he is supposed to put it all away, where it belongs. Unfortunately, his definition of "put away" does not always agree with mine.
Some of Bill's shirts need to be ironed, but I can usually get by with pressing only the collars and plackets, along with the sleeves of his short-sleeved shirts.
When I think back to my mom's laundry days, when we lived on the farm, I realize that I should be grateful for modern laundry appliances and detergent, as well as modern fabrics that don't need to be ironed. It wasn't nearly so convenient for Mom to use the old wringer washer on the farm. On warm mornings, she would wheel it outside so she could work in the sun, carrying buckets of hot water from the kitchen before running each load through the washer, then squeezing the water out of each piece of clothing with the hand-cranked wringer. Next, she hung the clothes on the backyard clothesline, clipping them securely with wooden clothespins. In the winter, she used the washer on the enclosed back porch, but the clothes still needed to be hung up to dry, on the outside clothesline if the weather wasn't too bad, but often inside, on clothesline she strung across the small back porch and kitchen. Later, the laundry needed to be pulled off the clothesline and brought inside, where she would sprinkle the clothes, all except the underwear and socks, with a little water, and roll them up in a laundry basket, ready to be ironed the next day. It's no wonder she only did laundry once a week!
I remember running joyfully through the laundry hanging from the clothesline on the farm. When I was a little older, I liked to help Grandma Wegner hang out the laundry on her neighbor's clothesline, and I recall dashing outside to pull the clothes off the line, quick before it rained. I love the smell of freshly washed sheets that have been flapping in the breeze all day long; I wouldn't mind installing a clothesline in my own backyard, just so I could hang out the sheets in the summer.
I am so glad, though, that I can clean my family's dirty, stinky laundry with a minimum of effort. I wouldn't want to do without my washer and dryer, any more than I would ever want to do without the Savior who makes me clean. I have to wash clothes often, at least twice a week, but he took care of my filthy sin problem, and yours, too, once and for all, when he died and rose again. This comparison is barely adequate, because it can't begin to explain what he has done for us. It wasn't easy, by any means, but his selfless sacrifice was surely the most effective cleansing of all time--way better than any mere washing machine, because once was enough for all time. Jesus has made us clean!
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin. Psalm 51:2
Comments
Post a Comment