It started with the laundry.

No matter how many loads got washed, how many hampers were filled with fabric softener-infused textiles, how many socks we rescued from the lint trap in the dryer, the laundry never went away.

It seemed to grow on its own.

I didn’t have a problem with the sorting, or the loading into the washer and then transferring to the dryer. I enjoyed the warmth of tumble-dried towels in the winter, and the smell of sheets unpinned from clothes lines after drying in the summer sun.

But the folding. That’s where I’d get stuck. Clean laundry would pile up on our couch, or at the foot of the bed, or in a hamper on top of the dryer in the laundry room, daring me to stand still for just thirty minutes – the time it took to fold the t-shirts and the cargo shorts.

“What a waste of time,” I’d think, and close the laundry door behind me.

One day, however, God got through to me and showed me He can transform the everyday into a sacred encounter. I held a tiny t-shirt in my hands and realized my child would wear this out into the world. I smoothed the cotton wrinkles with the palm of my hand, and prayed a prayer of blessing on the one whose little body would wear this t-shirt into mud-covered, grass-stained adventures.

Soon, I started to see mundane chores as tabernacles God invited me to enter and get to know Him better. I’d snap the top sheet over narrow twin mattresses and watch percale unfurl and pray sweet dreams and peaceful sleep for the little one whose tiny head would rest upon the pillow.

I’d seal the zip-loc bag that held a peanut butter sandwich and pray my child would grow in wisdom and in stature, and in favor with God and with others. I’d wipe the smudges from the windows and ask that God would give us all clear vision as we tried to follow Him. When I swept the crumbs up from the kitchen floor, I’d thank God for our daily bread and ask Him to show us how to share it.

Maybe you’ve got a mountain of laundry mocking you today, or a glob of spaghetti petrifying on your kitchen counter? Or maybe you’ve stepped over that pile of Legos more times than you’d care to admit? Maybe you wonder what glory could possibly be found in the grout around the bathtub or the pile of dishes in the sink?

Here’s what I know: God can meet you there. God specializes in transformations; you never know the places He may choose to build a tabernacle.

By: Deidra, Jumping Tandem

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