ma? could you transfer the wash?

Our Unique Call
from the Henri Nouwen Society

So many terrible things happen every day that we start wondering whether the few things we do ourselves make any sense. When people are starving only a few thousand miles away, when wars are raging close to our borders, when countless people in our own cities have no homes to live in, our own activities look futile. Such considerations, however, can paralyse us and depress us.

Here the word call becomes important. We are not called to save the world, solve all problems, and help all people. But we each have our own unique call, in our families, in our work, in our world. We have to keep asking God to help us see clearly what our call is and to give us the strength to live out that call with trust. Then we will discover that our faithfulness to a small task is the most healing response to the illnesses of our time.
(emphasis added)

~*~*~

what's so unique about laundry?

last night, exhausted from the day, i had just finished brushing my teeth and had one foot on the stairs, going up for the night, when i heard a voice say "ma? could you transfer the wash before you go to bed?"

*sigh* so much for the clean getaway.

i believe i grumbled. maybe not loud enough for my middle, neglected child to hear discernibly, but loud enough that it gave him something to remember while reclining at the therapist's as an adult. begrudgingly, i made my way to the laundry room. not a happy woman at this point, but a little background info is necessary: the boys, aged 20 and 15, are given many, many talks about getting their laundry into the wash prior to it reaching mountainous proportions. when that happens it goes from being their chore to mom's problem because they let it go for so long. let's add to the fact i am trying to make a clean break from being a dysfunctional enabler, so i have to find my solid ground and remain firm. setting boundaries. yep, that's me.

most times.

middle child has a difficult time with this, but has gotten better since we gave him a drumset for his birthday - he waits until it oozes out toward his bass pedal and then knows it's time to give it a go, lest it interfere with his now superior rocking abilities. last night, as it was finding its way past his snare, he did the noble thing and got it started, but failed to transfer to the dryer so he'd have wearing apparel for school today (read: something black to wear). it went from being his problem to being my problem, thus my grumbling and my reluctancy to transfer the wash. i did so, but not without a steady stream of uninterrupted, complaining bitterness rising up out of the wellspring that is my heart.

*God come to my assistance...Lord, make haste to help me!*

when the Spirit of conviction comes, it does so, at times, without hesitancy. even before i had started up the stairs for the second time, i felt in my recesses *gee, could that have been done with any more love, or are you always so conditional?*

~--ouch--~

i know, if Jesus wanted me to transfer His wash, i'd have done so happily and said "anything else, my Lord?" but what about max? does he not come to me in the person of Jesus in disguise and when he said, "ma, could you transfer my wash?"

and should not my reply have been, "sure - anything else max?"