The Queen of Laundry

 

She found herself there in the laundry, in the folding of towels and tops and tiny socks. It taught her. She learned to pray in these quiet times, in this pause.

She asked the Lord what to do. He said this. Have you ever heard His voice? It is sweet. He said her real job was folding this laundry. Taking care of a family is important. It is essential. While doing that, pray, ask, seek, I hear you.

She folded everything in this grand house. Not a thing was out of her reach or distant from her effect. No whisper unheard, no cry for help disregarded. Each feather floating to the ground, another rainstorm or hushed quiet time, a meal lovingly prepared, a hope unnamed, each thing in this palace was her thing, all the things. Her eyes were on the sparrow and its eyes on her.

The War came suddenly, but she didn’t notice it. Outside the politicians howled like the wind. Inside the hearth was warm and set for bedtime. Outside the armies joined together in an evil embrace. Destruction led them. Inside her home was shalom, peace. Mercy and goodness followed her. The ground shook. The cage rattled. Did you know we are in a cage? She did not. Her bars were bent, her steps secure, her eyes ahead, only ahead. She lived free among prisoners. She sang among the deaf. She spoke and they heard, the people of silence, the people with no recollection of what had just occurred.

She stood at the ready, but no battle came near her home.

Two soldiers approached, each carrying the other. They were from the other side but needed her help. She recognized their flag, though to her it meant only Intercession. It meant triumph of the Spirit and calling out to God. Unknown to these fierce soldiers, this woman had been praying for their well-being for many years, and she welcomed them.

The war was over suddenly. The president shocked everyone, his closest, his farthest, the enemy and his friends. He said he was done, but wondered if he would ever be forgiven.

She forgave him.