Sabbath: The Story of How I Have NEVER Used Woolite.

It is clear that my life is full, busy, and often chaotic.  I am a wife, mother of six children, occupational therapist, childcare director, and graduate student.

Aside from a few other questions, like: "Are you crazy?", and "Are they all yours?", I often get asked "How do you do it all?".

The truth is, I don't.

I was recently sitting in the stands of a gymnastics invitational.  These events are FOUR. HOURS. LONG.  During those four hours,  I get to see my child compete, in all of her glory, for approximately one hundred and eighty seconds.  Striking up conversations with other parents is not only entertaining, it is crucial to survival.

I was talking with a few friends, passing the time, when one of them asked me: "When you hand wash Olivia's gymnastics leotard, do you use Woolite or regular detergent?".  My brain went haywire. WHEN? I hand wash? Detergent? Woolite?  Woolite and I have never even met.  I have never hand washed anything.  I almost made something up, I was so close to lying, because I was so embarrassed.

But I have listened well to my make believe, internet friend @Momastery, and I have committed myself to being a #truthteller, so I stuttered something like:

"I wash it in the washing machine, probably with dish towels, and sheets that have been peed on. No, let me revise that. My children wash it in the washing machine, probably with dish towels, and sheets that have been peed on, because I really don't do laundry, very much, at all."

The truth is, I have NEVER used Woolite.  I have NEVER hand washed anything.  I mostly don't do laundry, because I have taught my offspring to do laundry.  I haven't taught them perfectly, but it gets done.

There are so many things that I don't do.  "How do you do it all?" is a question that I almost laugh at. Because, in our home,  there is no Woolite, there is no hand washing of clothes, and laundry is done haphazardly by young children.  In fact, there is very little happening here at the Muir house, except love, life, and relative chaos.

I value a clean and tidy home, prompt and timely attendance to things, responsibility, healthy eating, and structured routines.  I really, honestly do.  But I don't always do them. In fact, sometimes I intentionally choose not to do them.

I often think about the Sabbath.  A time set apart for rest.  My family and I observe the Sabbath on Sundays by attending church, worshiping with friends, and joining together with family for lunch.
These actions are "set apart" for Sundays.  They are special traditions which remind us of the holiness of the day.

Although the Sabbath is formally observed on one, singular day, I have found myself extending it into all of my days.  By observing moments of Sabbath, space is carved out of my ordinary life to make room for the extraordinary.  I naturally, yet intentionally, choose not to do many things, like Woolite. Woolite and I will never be friends. It's not because Woolite isn't friendly or useful, but because Woolite would fill space in my life that I choose to fill with rest.

Look what happens as a result: Peed sheets, dish towels, and gymnastics leotards, join in communion, all together, in the washing machine.  The dazzling, bejeweled leotard is dancing with the urine-soaked bedclothes and the greasy rags that smell of dish water.  It's beautiful, right?  It's the extraordinary, mixing with the ordinary, right there in my Maytag.   My laundry would not have had this experience if the stunning gymnastics leotard was set apart and washed with it's own kind.

So I rest in those moments, setting myself apart from worldly expectations, and allowing space for extraordinary moments.  I allow life to happen, letting my dirty rags mix together with my beautiful garments in a tumultuous cycle.   I rest, knowing that my young children have been given, and have fulfilled, responsibility.  I rest, knowing that my gymnast's athletic body will be graced by a leotard washed in love and life, if not in Woolite.

I know and embrace that I simply cannot do all of the things, all of the time.  I do some of the things, some of the time.  The rest is Sabbath.

THE. REST. IS. SABBATH.

There she is, the jeweled beauty, resting with the filthy, dirty dishrags. 

P.S. This story was in no way intended to offend Woolite, or those who use it.

P.S.S.  Other things not done in the Muir house: Making the laundry move from the dining room table.  See above.