“You don’t make sacrifices.”

I hear his belligerent ten-year-old voice in my head as I pick up another sheet and fold it.

“I die daily,” I argue back as I dump the basket of towels and pick up the one on top.

The laundry today feels like a slow death. Death by socks.

I daydream a little as I fold and stack, fold and stack. How much easier it would be to leave this house every day and move among a world of rational adults who appreciate the contributions I make! How much easier to ship my kids off somewhere so I could pursue lofty goals and dreams instead of keeping house and tending to needs day in and day out!

My daydreams have a way of painting that grass a lovelier shade of green.

I sigh and resign myself. “Life is not about what I want.” I’m still grumbly, but I sense a shift in my mood.

What do I want? In my deep down heart of hearts, what do I really want?

I search deeply as I sort and pair the socks. At the end, I just want to be faithful. Faithful to my husband. Faithful as a mother. Faithful to use every gift and talent the Father has given me for His glory and the good of others.

Right now, being faithful means standing at a folding table working through three piles of laundry while two more spin in the machines.

Right now, being faithful means being present with my children, whether it’s snuggling up with a book and hearing them beg for one more chapter, or inserting myself between flailing arms and legs to break up an angry fight.

Right now, being faithful means plodding along toward my own goals and dreams so I can bring my children along with me and not leave them in my dust.

Right now, being faithful means ignoring for a little while the words that are burning inside me to find their way to paper, just so I can dry tears and calm an anxious child.

This faithfulness might feel like death sometimes, but I’m really living an abundant life.

Socks and all.



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