More than once I have made the mistake of picking a boy’s sock up from the floor of the laundry room and smelling it in order to discern its cleanliness. Baseball socks score highest on the foul smell test, if you were wondering. While I should have learned my lesson the first time, I did not.
Thanking God for loads of laundry spilling over the plastic baskets doesn't happen at the same frequency as thanking Him for Cinnabon. However, after a poignant story told by my girlfriend, my “Thanks for laundry” meter is on the rise.
When my friend Catalina was a young mom, dumping baskets of clean laundry on the kitchen table for folding was an every other day occurrence. Her boys were smaller then and the frequency of outfit changes was multiplied. When she inadvertently complained to her barren, childless, girlfriend, the lack of sympathy was significant. “Be thankful that you have laundry Catalina. I would love to be home doing laundry.”
Hearing this story led me to take a different perspective on my complaints. I haven’t mastered thanking God for piles of dog poop in the back yard, but I thank Him for a back yard. And although I need more practice thanking Him for bulging trash cans that only I notice, I thank him for providing the funds to purchase the food whose wrappers have been trashed. Finding ways to change my complaints into thanks is mood boosting and showing God my appreciation for what I have instead of what I have to do makes Him happy.
Our daughter came home from college and my laundry piles have exploded. I’m certain that the washing machine in her dorm building doesn’t even recognize her. In addition to bedding and clothes she had a few pair of dirty socks to clean. And if you care to know, girl socks are equally as repulsive to boy socks. I know. I’ve smelled them.