BJ Worshipping.

The other day I was doing laundry. I have done laundry since I was a junior in high school. Some people hate to do it. I'm not sure why. I don't mind it so much.

In our marriage, it has always been my one of my tasks. I'm sure I've written about it before, since I remember talking about BJ forgetting to empty his pockets and how frustrating that was at times. He would leave pens in his pants which would ruin our clothes. (I know, I know, I should have checked...I didn't say I was good at this, just that I have done it forever).

Anyway, we haven't had any ruined clothes in, well about two years now.

Everyone has favorite clothes. Whenever I hear the words, "I can't find my three quarter length sleeved black stretchy shirt," I scurry off to the laundry room to see if I am behind. I know that is not intended to be an indictment of my laundry timing, but nonetheless, I also know that I need to get up and help join the search.

It is better for me, if the loss is not my fault. Is that defensive? Probably, but I don't like being the unintentional source of frustration or annoyance (I work hard at being intentional about those things, so when it happens without my blessing, I get a bit...annoyed).

Anyway, back to favorite clothes. I think it is amazing how full our clothes closets are and how often I see the same outfits in the mirror. Literally, they should be monogrammed, "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday..."

I don't know what it is about certain clothes that cause them to get picked all of the time, but I think we need to be more gracious in our approach. No one likes being the last one picked for dodge ball. We need to be more sensitive to the less popular items in our drawers.

Deanna has her favorite night shirt. It used to be bright pink with black and white letters on it. I think you know what it says.

I have my favorite jeans. They used to be my least favorite. I have trouble with the new styles and how they seem to not cover as much as they used to. At least I blame it on the trends. That might not be the real issue.

Anyway, they used to really bug me when I wore them. I discovered when I wear a belt, they behave a little better. Now I really like them.

As I was folding clothes the other day, I was startled. A shirt I had not seen come through the wash in a long time was suddenly there. It's hard to describe the feeling it gave me.

As it lay face down in the basket, there was a familiarity about it. When I picked it up, I immediately realized it should not be there. It wasn't the right size and didn't get worn anymore. It used to cycle through all of the time. It must have screamed "pick me, pick me," everytime the drawer was opened. Actually, many times it didn't get put away...it lay out in the open waiting to be 'put on,' again.

As I turned it around to make sure it was what I thought it was, I experienced a mixture of bodily responses... from sweet relief to nausea.

There was that small black t-shirt with the white print on it (see the picture). He wore it all of the time. Where had it been? How did it get into the basket?

How precious in those moments it felt to once again be folding his laundry.

There is another small black item that often lays out but doesn't always get the attention it deserves. It too can evoke similar responses from the body. For many of us, its primary role is as a "dust collector."

It is waiting there. It often cries "pick me, pick me." Unfortunately, through time and experience in ignoring it, the cry grows fainter and fainter.

Go ahead, pick it up. It's full of Truth and promises for life. It's where the answers are. Read it and remember whose you are. Discover His plan for your life through its many pages. It is still as relevant as the days He lived the words that are now recorded there...waiting, for you to 'put 'em on.'

dad