Ironing

I come from a linage of hard-core ironers. When I was young my grandma would visit and help my mom by doing the ironing. She would blow air through her soft cheeks and whistle a tune while she happily pressed my dad’s button downs. To her, everything should be ironed, even underwear. She felt strongly that sheets were also to be ironed, just like they were when she was a girl at the Knapp Hotel on Main Street; the hotel that her father owned. My small eyes grew big, imagining that task. Surely that had to be a form of punishment I thought.

My mom also loved to iron and taught me this skill at a young age.  Starting with the shoulder seam and working my way around the sleeve and collar, I would try to copy her. However, I never seemed to accomplish much and always felt like I was making more wrinkles than I was getting rid of. I didn’t really notice the folds to begin with and now there were more. If this was an essential life-skill, I was doomed. 

As a teen and in my early adulthood it became a regular occurrence that as I ran out of the house Mom would call out, “Don’t you want to iron that shirt?” I would shrug my shoulders and say with a smirk, “What wrinkles? It’s not that bad.”

I was often puzzled why mom made more work for herself ironing t-shirts and pants. Surely these things were casual and didn’t need to be pressed.  When I inquired of this, she told me it was because her clothes fit differently and felt better.  These reasons went in one ear and out the other and so I entered my adult life, considering myself a non- ironer.  Throw it in the dryer maybe but I was not likely to pull out that ancient piece of equipment.

This went on for quite some time because let’s face it when you have young kids no one cares about wrinkles. You are just trying to survive, and frankly pressed shirts are not a priority. Just getting the clothes on four little bodies, shoes included was a herculean task in it of itself.

But somewhere along the way things started to shift and now that I am in my mid 50s’ I find myself ironing everything. The other day as I was standing in the early morning light watching the steam rise as I ironed my sweatshirt before I went to the gym. I started talking with myself, “What has happened to you? What are you doing ironing a sweatshirt? It fits different, “I answered myself, “and feels better.”

My mom was right. Now I get it. My body is not quite the same as it was when I was twenty-one and the less wrinkles the less likely the garment is to stick in all the wrong places. As much as I could stop here and write a lengthy discourse on how things go full circle and about the journey, we all take to realize our parents actually know what they are talking about, today, my mind is headed in another direction. 

Honestly, at this point in my life, it feels nice to have something I can control. I mean I know it sounds sort of ridiculous, but the wrinkles in my clothes I can get rid of; the wrinkles on my face -not so much. These mid-life years are full of accepting things you don’t like and have no control over such as sagging skin, crow’s feet and gray hair, not to mention where your adult kids live or how your parents age.

The reality is we are not in control of people or the circumstances around us, but God is. He is the master planner and has the whole thing figured out. He doesn’t have questions or concerns. He doesn’t have to wonder or worry because He knows how it’s all going to turn out and is in the process of making all things beautiful and right. If we are in Christ, we are invited into join Him in what He is up to but in a way, we are just along for the ride. He is the party planner. We get to follow is lead and enjoy the party.

But we do have control over some things. We can choose to control our temper and to forgive. We can choose what we place our minds on and what we tell ourselves about our skin wrinkling and hair greying. We can choose to thank God for the smile lines and the belly that has expanded done the work of bearing our beautiful children. And I can choose to iron, if it makes me feel better in my clothes.

So, I am thankful this evening that God is charge of the things I can’t control, and I am safe in His care. And I am thankful for the choices I do have; things that he has given me agency over; the ways I can make my life better and my days more filled with joy.

 When I follow the way of Jesus in what I think, say and do I am choosing life for myself and for those around me as well. Walking in His steps brings His kingdom and His presence to my corner of the world. And His presence changes everything; it even changes me. After all I am an ironer now!