Princess Panties and Superhero Briefs: When Hope is Buried in the Laundry Pile
I am folding underwear at eleven o’clock when he finally walks through the door in his blue scrubs. The black rings that bridge the gap between his cheek bones and his blood-shot eyes testify to the nineteen hour work day he’s just finished.
But the sparkle in his weary smile is one I’ve come to recognize after a decade of this gig as a small town doctor’s wife.
He doesn’t need to say it. With one glance, I know.
He’s just ushered new life into this world.
He slumps onto the couch and props his aching feet up on the coffee table.
I reach for another Spider Man brief and continue to fold.
Boy or girl? I ask as he moves stuffed animals and baby dolls to carve a spot for himself.
He shoots me a small grin before closing his eyes and leaning his head on the back of the faded leather sofa.
“Boy.”
And the new mama is doing all right?
He accentuates his satisfied smile with a nod.
“She did great,” he says, his voice thick with father-like tenderness.
I pile underwear in tall towers, sorting by size and style—
Superheroes for my littlest boy and Disney princesses for my girly girl.
Flowered bikinis for my middle one and polka-dot undies for her sister.
Boxers and compression shorts. Stretchy and thread bare.
No one told me how much of my life would be consumed by underwear-–
Shopping for it and sorting it.
Washing it and drying it.
Folding it and piling it.
Inspecting it and uncovering it.
Aren’t those the same undies you wore yesterday?
Who threw these panties in the toy box? Or that the most challenging part of raising five sweet bottoms wouldn’t be covering them with cotton or satin but covering them with grace.
My hard-working man has fallen asleep sitting up, his huge hands clutched together on top of those blue scrubbed-knees as if prayer were the language of his dreams.
And I marvel at the gift of him- this husband of nearly nineteen years- whose hands have cuddled five babies of our own and cradled hundreds of others as they took their first breaths.
I stack undies in a big brown laundry basket and reach for another load.
And as the clock pushes midnight, I take a hint from my hubby’s hands and I pray.
Pray over panties and briefs, over boxers and hipsters.
I pray for all the buns beneath my roof and I think of that new mommy cuddling her tiny new miracle in the hospital where my husband spends his hours.
I picture that precious babe in his itty bitty diaper, and I can nearly smell the powder fresh aroma of Pampers right there in my living room.
I stare, unbelieving, at a pair of plaid boxers and wonder when my firstborn wore his last pair of Buzz Light-Year briefs. And why I hadn’t noticed.
When did my babies all outgrow my arms?
I pray for my son, slipping fast into a man.
And for his little brother who still sports Lightning McQueen on his bum and sprints through the narrow hallways of our home clad only in race car undies and a John Deere blankie draped as a cape about his neck.
And for his sisters who add pink and purple and pizazz to our world.
I ask God to be their covering, their undergarment of joy.
And I pray for that mama holding new life tonight.
I ask that she will persevere long after her little boy has outgrown his baby wrinkles.
That she will press on even when the powder-fresh smell of his soft skin has been replaced with the stench of sweat and mud.Because she may not know it yet, but the greatest challenge of this thing called motherhood isn’t just the beginning but the laying down of one’s life to the very end.
Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. -Phil 3:13-14
She may not know it yet, but all that straining and aching to push a miracle from womb to world is just the launch into a lifetime of Holy strain.
Though persevering through the blur of contractions and pain is no small success, the greater triumph may actually be persevering through five-thousand and forty-five days of dirty underwear and stinky socks and still believing that ordinary life is an extraordinary gift.
And so I pray for that mommy cuddling her tiny miracle in her arms.
And for me.
And for you.
And for every mom who folds undies at midnight and waits for teenagers at curfew and rocks babies at sunrise.
I pray for all of us pressing on despite our flaws and our weariness, despite our doubts and our not-yet-realized dreams.
Pray that we will be willingly to grow small as the laundry piles grow large, because the real hero in our lives isn’t the Spiderman on the briefs we’re folding, but a Prince who once stripped down to his underwear and scrubbed dirty feet in love.
A single shaft of moonlight lands on the piles of panties at my side, and I notice a small hole in my daughter’s bright pink briefs. I toss that pair aside, making a mental note to peruse her dresser drawers in the morning and check for other worn-out bottoms.
Then I shove my laundry baskets against the wall, kiss the handsome doctor asleep on my couch, and thank God for a love that covers all of our holes, girding us in grace from our beginnings to our ends .
You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. –Psalm 139:5
Linking with Lisa-Jo and so many other lovely writers for Five-Minute Friday.
Today, we’re writing for five minutes about the word “laundry” just pouring our hearts on the page, uncensored, imperfect, and real. Care to join us?
*Dear friends, when I saw that today’s Five Minute Friday prompt was “laundry” I couldn’t resist pulling this favorite of mine from the archives. It’s not every day a mom writes about underwear:) and delights in what takes shape on the page. Hope you don’t mind reading it again. I may not have penned it in five minutes, but I know you can read it in five.
Thank you. That was incredible to read. Thank you. I can certainly relate in more than one way.
Such a beautiful post of how quickly little ones grow. I need to hear this message as I strive to remain always joyful in the trenches, and having trouble imagining kids that don’t need me so much! Your “hard-working man” has ushered 3 of my little ones into the world in the last 4 years, and I couldn’t be more grateful for him, and for the sacrifices your family makes for mamas like me to be cared for so well! Blessings as your family embarks on your new adventure!
Such an easy and beautiful read. Thank you for inviting me into your living room to tell me your story of mothering and all too quickly passing life. Your words were orchestrated so beautifully. I felt like I could trust you and then wanted to listen as you shared your heart. Just simply wonderful writing. Thank you thank you.
So encouraging and insightful. I love what you said, “She may not know it yet, but all that straining and aching to push a miracle from womb to world is just the launch into a lifetime of Holy strain.” A noble and beautiful calling.
wonderful blog post… and we need to remember those doctor’s and nurses are real people with real lives at home.
Thank you so much for such a beautiful write! I found you on FMF and am so glad I was able to stop by and read your musings on underwear. 🙂
Oh my. Beautiful. I am moved to the depths. Thank you. I really mean it. Thank you. I receive your prayers and look forward to reading your blog in the future. Thank you!