My Messy Laundry, My Messy Life

I really hate folding laundry.

I mean, I have four small children, I do plenty of things every day I don’t enjoy such as scrubbing poop off the bars of a crib or closing my children’s drawers (how hard is it to close a drawer?). But I really hate folding laundry. I have no issue washing or drying; the laundry in my house is mostly clean. But processing them from the dryer to the closet? Forget about it.

For a long time I hid my hatred of laundry. I’d put my heaped-up, spilling-over baskets in the furthest corner of my bedroom where company wasn’t likely to go. If my husband mentioned he couldn’t find what he needed, I’d bristle and snap. Because clearly it was his problem that a crumpled sock was hard to find in that enormous mound. I hated to fold laundry, but I didn’t want anyone to know or talk about how much I hated to fold laundry.

It was just like the rest of my life.

For years I worked hard to look a certain way. I had friends, but I only shared easy problems with them. Sleepless babies, fitful toddlers … the kind of frustrations every mom feels; the kind of issues that won’t make anyone uncomfortable.

I did not share my fears or passions or uncertainty.

I pretended hardships in my marriage didn’t exist, and I completely ignored how disconnected I felt from God. I never opened up, because I wanted to be the mom who had her life together. I wanted to be the kind of mom whose children wore matching socks, and whose car had never christened a drive-thru line. The kind of mom who didn’t hide clean laundry because she didn’t want to deal with it.

Maybe it worked, maybe I created that image. But it wasn’t worth the price. My soul shriveled in that world. I spent so much time ignoring who I really was that I no longer knew myself. Surrounded by friends who thought they knew me, within a few miles of all of my extended family, I was utterly alone. It was miserable.

I don’t do that anymore.

These days I keep my clean laundry in the kitchen. If you walked into my house, you would see it right now; this mountain of clean towels and sheets and pajamas of crumpled socks and children’s underwear. I handle my internal life in a similar way. If you know me now, you know exactly what my struggles are. You know my ongoing debate over how to educate my kids, or how I’ve managed (and failed to manage) my husband’s recovery from a serious accident. How much I love liturgy, and how I still feel disconnected from God most of the time, but I keep showing up anyway.

I keep my laundry in the front, and I keep my emotions close to the surface.

Because it turns out a messy life is much happier than a hidden one.

I am Stephanie – mom to four beautifully rambunctious little kids and wife to a guy who still makes me smile. Last spring I moved to Colorado, where I fell in love with the mountain air and the Anglican church. If you have ever abandoned religion in search of faith, ever had to leave your hometown to find your home, or ever climbed to the very tip-top of a jungle gym to rescue an overzealous toddler, come sit by me. We’ll talk. You can visit my blog at A Wide Mercy.