i stand in the laundry room. i separate. i pour liquids. i fold. i hang. i cry out to the Creator of heaven and earth and Knower of all that is in me. i am pouring. raw. exposed. freshly ripped open. i tell Him of a hurt that He knew of before it occurred. i ask of Him, why? i ask for my lesson in this to be learned quickly. knowing my tears are humble and He is faithful to examine them and wipe them away. hanging up shirts i refuse to sit on the concrete floor, although i am no less dirty then the laundry piled high on it's cold surface. He meets me where i stand. in all of my frustration of question after question after question.
weariness. loneliness. self doubt. searing fright. ....fright...fear...and He places a gentle hand under my chin, lifts it high and at once i am shown that this ugliness of fear has been created by my lack of trust, and my willingness to believe lies from a belly crawler. that this fear is the root of all my weariness, loneliness and self doubt. He drops His hand from under my chin and my face, my body, the shirt and the hanger fall to the cold concrete floor.
fear. "do you fear what i have in store for you?" a gentle, warm question that needs no response. "do you not remember that I desire life abundant for you? a life to prosper you and not to harm you?"
He hears the quickening of my heart. 'their is so much harm in this world to fear.' i need not say it aloud to Him.
"can I not heal all wounds? is not our relationship made stronger when you walk with me by faith, not by sight? when I carry you through struggle? does it not hurt to be refined by a blazing fire but feel relieving to shine once refined? to be comforted through the fire?"
and my heart is aching by the hurt i have caused my Heavenly Father by holding hands with fear. by not remembering that it is He who brings the rain and the sun and the swelling of the ocean tides. that it is He who can bring me through anything and it is He who will only hand to me what i can handle through His Son. it is He that i belong to and it is He who i can trust, and not the face of fear. that fearing anything in this whole wide world is fearing what He has in store for me and my family. that by holding hands with the demon of fear is not trusting His perfect plans for myself and my family.
now looking boldly into the face of fear and seeing it for what it is; a lack of trust of what God is going to hand me, i am reminded of the chorus that sings 'where the spirit of the Lord is there is freedom!' and i fling wide my arms and throw my fear freely into an abyss of no return and except the spirit of freedom from the One who is quick to give it to all who wish to receive it.
the rest of the laundry is finished as he gently shows me all the areas of my life that i need to now step out in faith with His spirit of discernment and not be held captive to fright. He reminds me that 365 times in the Bible are the words fear not and/or, do not be afraid. a fear not and/or, do not be afraid for every single day of the year, for every single year of my life, and the life given to my family. and at one point i choose to seek them out and hold them all close to my heart. i make a mental note of continuing that search as i cling the feelings of freedom and love and renewal and a walk of communion all filling in the holes that weariness, loneliness and self doubt had previously dug deep.
in stand in the laundry room. i separate. i poor liquids. i fold. i hang. i am made new. i have been washed free of the grime that this world tried to stain into the fabric of me. i look forward, from this day on, to doing laundry, to checking myself for worldly stains that can be cleaned by the purest, brightest cleanser of All.