homemaking

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Homemaking ~ The Ministry of the Laundry

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Laundresses at Eragny, Camille Pissarro, c. 1901

The mountain rises every day, not just in its elevation, but in its girth. It is a mountain of socks with holes, t-shirts and sports shorts, of faded school uniforms, denim jeans too small, and kids’ shirts now too tight, mixed in with bedsheets, pillow cases, and tablecloths. We sort through the piles of laundered items to separate the items that fit from the items that are ready to be bagged up and ushered forth into the wonderful world of The Thrift Shop. The socks who’ve lost their matching pair are tossed into the lone sock drawer in the laundry room. One day, I’m sure I’ll go through that drawer and find all the pairs have been reunited in there over the years. Different seasons have called for different methods of managing the vast amount of laundry our family has used.

The baby years called for inordinate amounts of stain remover as I tried to rescue onesies from their unavoidable destiny of blowouts. (This is why new babies need a large supply of onesies for the first several months.) The toddler years saw my efforts for putting away folded clothes thwarted as my little ones loved pulling clohtes out of dresser drawers as soon as they could pull themselves up! During our seminary years, we were so busy with our four little ones and my husband in classes, that the laundry pile went onto the floor during the night, and back onto our bed during the day. The clothes always got washed and dried, but they didn’t always make it into neat and tidy folded stacks, and very rarely got put back into dresser drawers.

As our children grew and acquired more responsibilities, I would have them go through the clean laundry bins and pull out their own clothes and put them away (folded or unfolded, it didn’t matter, as long as they were in their drawers). They now regularly wash, fold, and put away their clothes properly… almost. I think we have finished training our children in laundry management.

Can there be beauty in washing the laundry? I would argue, yes, and I will state my case plainly. First, have you ever wondered where this clothing comes from? Which fabrics they are made from? How those fabrics got produced in the first place? And what plants or worms were the source of those fabrics? If you are like me, it is all so very fascinating and worth a good think! I want to look at fabrics with the intelligence of a worker who knows which plants these fibers have been culled from, and how to work with these fibers to make them last as long as possible. The fabrics that clothe my family are worth getting to know. It makes a difference to understand fabric and how to preserve and protect them for longevity. Its a type of stewardship, and yet not entirely a naturally enjoyable task, as any monotonous type of work creates this challenge. May I refer to the thorns and thistles of Genesis 3:18 & 19? Can we see beauty in something so tedious and mundane? Something I have loved to do in the last few years is to find beautiful works of art to inspire and enhance my domestic duties, to make it more of a creative act of beauty, than just a mundane task on my to-do list each week. If you’ve read this far, you are hooked! Hooray! A like-minded soul! Carry on!

One of the artists that best captures the beauty in the ordinary is artist, Camille Pissarro. I discovered one of his works one day while rummaging through the art and empty frames section of our local thrift shop. A sense of wonderment overtook me, almost an adrenaline. The name in cursive letters below the print was C. Pissarro. The painting I found was his piece titled, “The Hermitage at Pontoise” which portrays a quaint little village scene in the town of Pontoise, France. This painting is now reframed in our living room, prominently placed beside the piano.

Camille Pissarro was an impressionist painter who saw beauty in the ordinary tasks of the men, women, and children of his time, so much so that he sought to capture the experience of ordinary moments of daily living with the brushstrokes of his genius. Ordinary became art. Duty became beauty. Passing moments became opportunities to create with light and color. Not only are his works wall worthy, but they give me joy in the beauty of a hidden and quiet life.

“Known as the ‘Father of Impressionism’, Pissarro painted rural and urban French life, particularly landscapes in and around Pontoise, as well as scenes from Montmartre. His mature work displays an empathy for peasants and laborers,” -https://www.camille-pissarro.org/biography.html

In 1 Thessalonians 4:11, Paul urges the believers in Thessalonica to “make it your ambition to lead a quiet life and attend to your own business and work with your hands, just as we instructed you…” (NASB).

Although I still prefer to do other things than fold the laundry, it’s also something that must be done. Nowadays, I fold laundry while listening to an audiobook or podcast so that my mind is engaged as well as my hands. I’ve found pieces of art that inspire me to do the work, enjoy the work, and watch as beauty is unfurled as a result of the work. Below are some of my favorite creative works that inspire me to do the duties the Lord has called me to and to find beauty in the mundane work that must be done. Other artists and musicians have found the glory in the mundane and have written songs about it. I find in these creative expressions, voices that articulate the worth of these domestic duties and puts their glory on display. Even the German poet, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe believed these sentiments when he wrote the famous line, “Cease endlessly striving to do what you want to do and learn to love what must be done.”

Since today is a day of much laundry: clothing, towels, bedsheets, and preparations for a guest, it seemed like the perfect timing to share this little message. I hope you enjoy and find beautiful ways to adorn your necessary everyday tasks of this life God has given you to steward.

Art

Woman Hanging Up the Laundry, Camille Pissarro

Painting by Lilias Trotter

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Home Making ~ The Ministry of Ironing

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I was listening to a podcast this morning on gratitude.
I want to say thank you today to anyone who is taking the time to read my words.
It is so life-giving just to write creatively. And if anyone is consequently blessed by these words,
that just adds another layer of gratitude. So I want to say, “Thank you.”

I turn on the faucet and a thin stream of water fills the reservoir of my metal iron. Returning it to the ironing board, I push the plug into the outlet in the wall. It will take a few minutes to heat up the plate and produce the steam needed to get the wrinkles out of the fabric laid flat. Like divets in the road, like ridges on a hilltop, these little creases will be straightened and made plane.

I remember as a child watching my mother iron clothes every weekend. I didn’t have much of an appreciation for ironing back then. In fact, I determined in my adult years to only buy clothing that did not need an iron. I did not know then the many graces that were to be found in the ministry of ironing, but my mother knew, and one day I would learn it too.

As my mother faithfully ironed clothes on a Saturday evening, the fresh mown grass smell swooping in with the wind from my parent’s bay windows, my innermost thoughts would pour out in conversation. Sometimes I kneeled beside her bed and began to help fold towels. Sometimes I would just flop down on her bed forlorn about some kind of middle grade angst whether it was a friendship struggle, or an exciting fountain of news that must be told to someone and rejoiced in together, or perhaps just sharing my wildest dreams, thoughts and questions. Meanwhile, my mom ironed the clothes, the tablecloths that would grace the dining table for Sunday noon meal guests, and my dad’s buttoned shirts and slacks. Sometimes she would pull out her Bible and point me to one of the many verses highlighted there, the pages  scented with a fragrant real leather bookmark.

When my mother was standing at her post, serving our family through the ministry of ironing, the door stood open, an invitation for my sisters and I to come and chat. The warm glow of her lamps on the bedside tables drew us in. The view of Mt Baker southeast of our home in British Columbia, and the descent of the sun lit up the dusky sky with pink and orange hues upon the city of Vancouver from where our house was perched on a plateau that overlooked the Fraser Valley. This scene invited my sisters and I into conversation with her at the end of a long week.

When at a discipleship school in Texas in my college years, I was assigned to be a housekeeper for an elderly woman and a middle-age woman who shared a home together. These two women taught my friend and I their standards of housekeeping at their home and the specific ways they wanted things done. I was a little afraid to leave a speck of dirt unconquered or a plant not returned to its appointed place, because the standards were high. Their standard for excellence taught me the virtue of doing things well and offering my best to the Lord. These lovely and wise women always served us ice cream and enriched our souls with godly conversation after our work day. They taught me how to fold flat sheet corners on guest beds, brought us to tour their gorgeously renovated bed and breakfast mansion, and I learned how to set up a Texas patio greenhouse during the winter months to protect their garden conservatory, and how to take it apart in preparation for the summer months. It was such a joy to learn from them.

Many years later, just after our wedding, my husband and I were in Huemoz, Switzerland, living in a corner room of an old chalet in a Christian community called L’Abri, which in French means “the shelter”. One of our work days involved being invited to a home chalet, just down the hillside from the main chalet. A couple of us were assigned many housekeeping duties for the morning work: vacuuming their floors, washing dishes, preparing food, and yes, ironing tablecloths and bedsheets. I took it all in as I watched the woman of the house prepare food for about 20 of us who would be eating lunch at her home that day.

Classical music filled the home from a record player. She showed us how to set her table for the group, everything intentionally placed, and delicious food served to eager and impressionable young adults. As I worked, I listened to conversations, set my hands to the task, and absorbed all I could about the atmosphere of her home: a place of mutual love, with sunlight streaming in through windows, older children at play or work, a love of learning and strong work ethic meant to bless the community. It was just beautiful, and it left a mark on me and on my husband, another seed planted to prepare us for our work of preparing a home for our future children, in the ministry of parenting and the ministry of church work.

As I stood at my ironing board the other day, smoothing the wrinkles of a dress, there was a pleasant slowing down, a monotonous yet satisfying labor with my hands. There was a quietness, a methodical outpouring of love to care for and steward the resources God has given us. There in the quiet, my mind relaxed as if the creases in my thoughts, too, were getting ironed out.

Each of us are being formed daily, and the Lord continues to iron out the ridges and ruffles of my soul that come from living in a broken world. The Lord ministers to me in the quiet, and I am restored. In all the work of God’s faithful hands, he is preparing for us a home. All Christians, men and women are called to hospitality - ours is a faith of hospitality, the creating of home that shelters others in this dark world. The creating of a home is the creating of a city on a hill, a light to draw others out of the darkness into the Kingdom of Light. Our God is making a home for us here and in an unseen realm. One day the veil will be lifted and the new heaven and new earth will merge as one. Our God is the greatest home Maker. May we be home makers who reflect the joy and beauty of His work for those entrusted to our nurturing care.

John 14:2-3

“In my Father's house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.”

Gardening, Cozy Homemade Pizza Dough, & Refreshing Iced Vanilla Coffee

Our first strawberries

I’m having an unusually slow Friday, sipping a half drunk iced coffee I made too late in the day, listening to instrumental jazz music, having planted a little cherry tomato plant in an old wooden box I’ve been keeping for years. This spring, we made a spontaneous decision after making many plans for year 3 of our vegetable garden… we aren’t planting a garden this year.

We have many plans this summer, and our human limitations required us to take a year off from gardening. Instead, we are going to create systems and focus on preparing the ground for garden boxes and a drip system, so that next year when we plant, we will be ready for a successful growing season.

In many of the same ways, we are laying more foundations for our church and school this summer. You might say we are planting a garden, but its of the worship and education variety this summer. There will be scraping of decades-old paint, much cleaning, setting up, and preparing a renovated space for our little school. We will be starting a youth girls and youth boys club for our church plant so we can intentionally disciple these awesome youth and build community and relationships. May God establish all these little gardens of grace.

Though we will be taking a break from the large garden plot, I dug up my blueberry starts that I had already planted, my strawberry plants from last year, bought some herbs and repotted those near our front door where I will be sure to water them every morning and evening this summer. I’ll nurture my little cherry tomato plant. And when I’m missing the garden, I’ll go to glean from our parents’ gardens! For now, we have shared our first strawberry and enhanced our meals with cilantro, rosemary, and Thai basil.

A few years ago, I found this recipe for homemade pizza dough. It is our family’s favorite, and we regularly enjoy it on a Friday evening, when the week is done, we’ve worked diligently, and we’ve played hard. Even though we are already in the throws of a 90+ degree spring heat wave, the air conditioning unit is keeping us cool and we can truly call it a “cozy” meal! Here is the recipe if you’d like to try it out:

2 cups hot water
3 tsp active dry yeast
2 TB honey
2 tsp sugar
4.5 cups flour
1 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp salt
*optional 1/4 tsp onion powder)
olive oil

Directions:
Pour the hot water in a mixer and sprinkle the yeast. Allow it to sit for a few mins (sometimes I don’t wait!) Add all the other ingredients into the bowl except the oil, and mix slowly (or speedy) until combined. Mix for around 7 mins… or just for a little while (I’m not too exact with recipes which sometimes doesn’t help me). Coat the ball of dough lightly in olive oil, just to prevent it from drying out while you wait for it to rise a tad. You can then cover the bowl with a lovely tea towel of your choosing - I’m sure you have some pretty ones! Check out these favorites here! I’ve given a couple of these ones away as gifts as well. The dough can rest while you read another chapter of your favorite book, switch the laundry over, and respond to a text… okay should be ready! Likely it has doubled in size if the yeast is good. If not, that’s okay too, it will still taste yeasty! That’s the most important part! I forgot… preheat your oven to 480 degrees, grease a pan, and be ready to roll out the dough. I usually get 2-3 pizzas out of this amount of dough which is perfect for our family in the tween & teen years. Bake the pizza dough for 4 mins, then pull out of oven, top with desired sauces and toppings. Bake for 8ish more mins or until the crust is slightly brown and cheese is melted! Enjoy with your people!

Iced Vanilla Coffee at home

That iced coffee I was talking about, yes… let’s get back to that, shall we? We were given an espresso machine when we moved here three years ago. So I just brew a couple shots of espresso, pour it over ice from the fridge, and pour in the whole milk. Then I add a splash of vanilla extract (actually I use the imitation vanilla, the fake vanilla to save money.) It tastes delightful and some times there are little hands coming to ask for a sip of my “mommy drink”!

May your weekend be filled with beautiful moments of serving your people.