All Around Us

We found it on craigslist. "Eight years old. Super capacity. Bought wife new one for Christmas with all the bells and whistles. Want to sell old one as soon as possible." With six people a washer is vital. At least that's what the mounds in the hallway were suggesting. The price was right, super capacity was a bonus, so we called.

The next day an old white pick-up pulled up to the house with a washer and dryer teetering on back. My first glance left me less than impressed. But we had just returned home and I was busy giving Calvin his meds and hooking up his next feeding. Sophie was hauling in stacks of library books from the car while Noah and Evie were stuck with their boots on at the front door begging for help and then a story. I was glad Darryl was home to figure it all out.

The guy delivering the washer had a woman along helping. Was it his wife? She looked quite a bit younger and had some sort of disability. Show kindness, stop with the busyness. But I pushed it away and continued at a frantic pace to get everything sorted out. She paused awkwardly in the kitchen and shyly said hi to Evie, "So cute," she added. Something just didn't feel right. I wondered about her situation. Does she need a friend? A word of kindness? But it was too late. She was out taking orders from the man on what to do next.

The clanging and banging at the front door announced Darryl's decision. We were the proud owners of the washer and dryer. Let me rephrase that, we were the owners of the washer and dryer. As they shifted, shoved, and wrestled the machines down the stairs I forgot about the girl and instead irritation began to stew quietly. Looks like it hasn't been cleaned in years. Rusted. Piece of Junk. Gross.


"I'll give you a 90 day guarantee on that there set," the man announced under his bushy mustache and broken teeth. "I checked 'em all over, everything is good as new. It's an old one but ya know, they just don't make 'em like they used to." Really. Darryl said a hesitant thank you and took his card.


The door closed and Darryl sat down at the table while I started making dinner. What was he thinking?! What a piece of junk. I quietly chopped veggies. "I can clean them up," he offered.

Silence filled the room. "What do you want me to do?" Darryl (apparently catching on that I was less than pleased). I whacked at the onion a little harder, "Make money, and make a lot of it." I looked up and caught his raised eyebrows. Money, doesn't that solve everything?

Laughter pushed out the stiff silence. "I think we should reach out to them, there was something about that girl," Darryl mused. "I thought the same thing," I added. Something about being in need puts need-colored glasses on your eyes. You look up and find folks with all different colors and shades of need. 


When will I put convenience behind calling? When will desire for comfort take the back seat and desire for serving Jesus take the front? All too soon I start pushing my tent stakes deep in the earth and find a need to surround myself with things to suit me. I need to pull out my tent stakes, and go forward with my eyes focused on Jesus Christ and travel on longing for His glory, both now and in eternity.

Maybe then it'll be a whole lot easier to stop worrying about my washer and start talking with the girl in my kitchen.