The Last Load of Laundry that Broke the Camel's Back

I had one of those moments Friday night.

It had been a long week. I was behind on almost every aspect of family and household care. There was a week's worth of laundry, dishes to be washed, etc.

You know the song. I've shared it with you before: "He Will Come," recorded by Waterdeep.



"She can handle any tragedy that happens but not little things like this."

I was on the last load of laundry, having congratulated myself on removing three chocolate bars from my son's pants before starting the dryer cycle, as well as the fact that they were still in their wrappers and the clothing remained unstreaked. It was already late by the way that I measure time. Back to the kitchen for more dish washing. Yeah.

And I was so tired.

But what do you know, I didn't get all of the chocolate bars out of my son's pants after all. There was one more. It came out of the dryer, after two dryer cycles, in a ball, having left small chocolate streaks on the clothes and on the walls of the dryer.

I thought the entire load was ruined. You knew that heat tends to set-in stains, didn't you?

I put the load through the washing machine again thinking that every item of clothing in that load had been ruined, and I was devastated. Believe me when I tell you I was devastated over a single load of laundry.

When our car was totaled two years ago, right before our anniversary, I was fine. When my husband lost his job a few weeks later and decided to pursue his own project rather than interview for a new one, I was fine. Two years later, in the present, while still waiting for our income to start covering our expenses, I'm not exactly fine, but I am trusting God to keep us going debt-free as He has all this time. But the laundry? That was it.

You'll tell me that I didn't really come through all those bigger things without paying a high price, and you're right. But when I tell you I was fine, I tell you the truth. The big things, I can trust God for. The little things make me want to quit.

And that's what I was thinking while the laundry ran a second time that night. I'm done. I cannot be in charge of the housework. I cannot do it, Lord. You have given me a job I cannot do.

You have let me down.

We have that kind of relationship, God and I do. I yell at Him sometimes. He lets me rant and rave, and still He knows my heart, and I figure better that I yell at Him than yell at my husband, because He is big and strong, He knows me, and He knows the truth, and honey, He can take it. Besides, He knows exactly what I'm thinking whether I tell Him or not.

The Bible tells me that this is right. David did it. So did Job. And God answered both of them.

I hope you don't think I say this flippantly; it is a serious matter.

And after I've ranted and raved against Him for a while, this is what He says to me.

God says, "Baby, I'm here with you, and you can trust Me." Not in those words, of course. There are no floating voices, as my friend Damon sometimes reminds me. Maybe sometimes God does speak in an audible voice, but never to me.

And you know what? Even if the situation hadn't ultimately worked out it would have been okay. I scrubbed down the inside of the dryer with an SOS pad. I used stain stick on most of the clothes, and when I washed them that second time they came out clean.

And, hey, I got a blog post out of it.