Dear Ellison,
I wish that I could tell you that today's discovery would be something that you will rarely experience in your life- but I can't lie to you. What you did today, with such curiosity and gusto, will not always feel like such a Disneyland adventure. It won't be fun, you won't ever get a medal for it, no one will die if you DON'T do it, and chances are it will never be something you look forward to. Ellison, today you discovered LAUNDRY.
I can't promise that you may not one day find yourself angry at the very person who's boxer briefs you are holding in your hand, or that you won't be irritated by the 15th grass/ketchup/sharpie stain you find on your schoolager's Sunday best, or dumbfounded at the sheer volume of burp cloths and onesies have accumulated in a day. I can't promise it will ever be easy or exciting or fun.
But I promise you this:
One day you will pray over that pair of undies and thank God for the man who wears them. You will gasp when you think how much that schoolager has grown and how it has become increasingly difficult to decipher "who's is who's" because they are all just getting so big. One day you will fold a onesie or a burp cloth or a fuzzy little sock for the very last time. And then it will hit you. You've spent the last (however many) years taking care of your family- from the food on the table to the clothes folded neatly and placed in a drawer. You've loved them, prayed for them, held them and have simply been there for them. Then you will know that no task- great or small- is a burden or a chore as long as it is done in love.
Delight in the little things, my love. Cherish the path that the Lord has given you. Rejoice and seek God's face in all you do.
Oh, and bleach for your whites, cold for your colors, and don't let anyone ever tell you that liquid fabric softener is a splurge.
I love you,
Mama