A Good Man and Unfolded Laundry

I looked at the basket of laundry that had been sitting in our bedroom for (ahem!) a week.

Early in our marriage, I purposed that I would not allow unfolded laundry to sit in the dryer, a basket or lie on a surface, unfolded.  I especially purposed that my husband would never have to root through unfolded clothes to find his socks and underwear.  But there it sat and I feared for the simple basic coverings of the good man. There had been unusually heavy traffic through our lives over the last week, and I had “hidden” the basket in our bedroom so that people wouldn’t notice.  The problem was/is that when it is out of the public’s view, it is also out of my view, and consequently, out of my mind.  Until bedtime.  Then I sigh and promise myself that I will get to it tomorrow.  Which hadn’t happened.

“I really need to fold that laundry!” I said to Certain Man.  “I’m afraid you are almost out of socks and underwear!” 

He laughed a bit and then said, “I am, but this morning I lessened the amount of folding you will need to do.”

“What???” I asked, a bit warily. “Did you –?”

“Yep,” he said, his grey eyes twinkling, and the smiley lines chasing themselves around themselves. “I got myself a pair of socks and some underwear out of the basket this morning.”

“Oh, Daniel,” I said remorsefully.  “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright,” he said calmly.  “it really is no trouble at all.”

“I know, but—”

I got to thinking about it later.  About why I’ve washed, dried, folded and put away his laundry these fifty years, and I realized that the impetus comes partly from being the wife of such a good man.  It isn’t fear that has motivated me all these years.  Certain Man has NEVER reproached me, much less scolded me for the way I do laundry, or for being late with his clothing.  I do it because I want to. This man has always worked so hard, and he provides so well for us.  He’s kind, and he isn’t one person at home and another in public.  Oh, he can get riled up as any man worth his salt will, and I’ve learned that there are certain things “up with which he will not put!!!” but for the most part living with him is easy.

There was a statement made to me one day when I was going out of my way to do something for my husband. Someone was observing me and said, very condescendingly, “You only do that so he will like you!!!”

I thought that was an interesting statement.  I mean, “Duh!” Of course I wanted him to like me!  I really wanted him to like me, and so, (I thought) that was a good enough reason for doing something for this good man.  

But something didn’t feel right . . .

I pondered and pondered, and something kept simmering at the edge of my conscious thought.  But so often, things get crowded out by the stuff that seems to fill our days and I just didn’t take the time (kinda like getting around to fold that basket of laundry) to dissect and figure it out.  But there came a day when I told the story of “You just do that so he will like your!” and the ending hung in the air like a dangling participle. It suddenly felt important to find a better reason than, “So he will like me!”  

Then one day while I was mulling this over, I suddenly remembered something that happened back in February of 1980.  I had traveled to Delaware with Rosedale students, taking 3-year old Christina, our almost 2-year old foster son, Raynie, and our 3-month old Deborah. Our family was in the aftermath of saying good-bye to our 11 year old foster daughter, Anna, and it is safe to say that our hearts were breaking. Certain Man stayed behind to work because he had to. But it felt like taking the children home to Grandpa and Grandma Yoder would be healing.  We had a 15 passenger van, and there were a goodly number of Delaware students headed home for the winter break, so the deal was that they could use our van, do the driving, (Thank you, T.J. Tennefoss) and I could ride along, spend the week, and come back with them.

A few days after arriving in Delaware, Raynie spiked a fever of 105. He was lethargic and nothing I did brought the fever down. We took him to Milford’s Emergency Room, and Dr. David, the local pediatrician, attempted a spinal tap.  The spinal fluid was thick, it was pretty certain that it was spinal meningitis, and Raynie needed to be airlifted to the Wilmington Hospital for specialized care (there was no Christiana Care).  Raynie was comatose at this point, and I wasn’t allowed to go with him.  Daniel was back in Ohio, I had a three month old and a three year old at my parents’ house, and it was late evening.  I had all the necessary papers to have him treated, but as a foster parent, I didn’t have any legal authority regarding the treatment plan.  I remember standing in the cold parking lot, watching the helicopter carrying our precious toddler, lift off.  It was raining,and I was weeping uncontrollably, feeling completely helpless.  I had been Raynie’s mama since he was 11 weeks old, and he was very much “ours.”  Not only that, he was frantic whenever he was separated from Daniel and me for any length of time, and I was so afraid. 

My Sweet Mama, beside me in the cold darkness,  wrapped her arms around me and said, “Mary Ann, you need to come home.  There is no way for you to go to Wilmington tonight, and there is nothing you can do there.  You need to get home to Christina and Deborah, and we will decide in the morning what we will do.” It broke my heart, but I knew she was right.  I went home, nursed my infant, settled my three year old and spent a restless night.  In the morning, we went to Wilmington, my family shared babysitting responsibilities, and I got the plan of treatment — at least 15 days of IV antibiotics.  I looked through the glass window at my baby, clad only in a diaper, in a very cold room, completely motionless, IV leads hanging, and I felt like my heart was ripped out.  They finally allowed me to suit up, go in and caress his little body, but I was not allowed to pick him up or cuddle him.  I talked to him, sang to him, whispered words of love to him, and when I wasn’t in his room, cried buckets.

There was no Ronald McDonald house available, but hope appeared in the form of an offer for housing in Wilmington that would make seeing him much easier.   I gratefully accepted it, and My Sweet Mama, (who spent time with Raynie when I wasn’t available) Christina, Deborah and I descended upon the house.  I’m not sure what our host was thinking, because it wasn’t long before we knew that it wasn’t quite how she expected it, and one evening she cornered me and said (something to the effect of), “You need to think about how guilt is propelling you to care about this child.  He’s a foster child, and you are allowing your guilt to put you into this ‘need to be close by,’ and it’s just too much!” 

I felt like I had been slapped.  Mama and I talked, and decided that it would be better to return to Greenwood, and work out a plan.   Before I left, I thanked her for having us, but tearfully said to her, “You know, not everything hard that we do is because of guilt.  Sometimes it’s done because we love someone.”

So! As I was thinking about this whole thing of why I do things for my husband that people sometimes think (or say) are unnecessary, (or for ulterior motives) I came to the honest conclusion that, yes, I do things for Certain Man because I want him to like me.  This is true.  But I also do most of what I do for him because I not only like him and want him to like me, but I love him.  And for me, that is reason enough.  And I intend to keep on doing them as long as I’m able.

So there! 

And just so you know:
-The laundry got folded.
-Raynie got better.
-Our host apologized for what she said.
-Because the stay in the hospital was longer than term break at Rosedale, our van went back to Ohio without us, and our Agency paid for airline tickets to fly the four of us home when Raynie was discharged from the hospital. (Franklin County Children’s Services did ask me if I was singlehandedly trying to build a wing on Children’s Hospital. Yikes)!

There were far more lessons learned that week than I can begin to tell, some of which may have had to do with a Good Man, but nothing to do with unfolded laundry! The truth is, our God is able to bring good out of the hardest circumstances, and even in our pain, fear, confusion, reversal and loss, He has a plan, and we are not alone.  He cares, and if we look for Him, He can be found.

THIS, I Believe!