I have four children, and much of my weekends have born the imprint of their activities these past twenty years. There have been choir contests, live music gigs, swim meets, kung fu classes, dance recitals, plays, and countless soccer games.
Two of my children have played soccer, so I've probably earned my 10,000 hours on the pitch. Last weekend my son had a string of soccer games and then our washer broke. As it was a weekend and we'd have to wait until Monday to call a repairman, we washed his uniform the old fashioned way: in the bathroom tub with detergent and elbow grease.
A poem came out of that experience and continues to live in me. I continue to wonder what I may discover when I doubt my doubts.
Prayer Flags
Because your washing machine broke yesterday,
and because it's a Sunday, and because your son
has a soccer game this evening, you take
his wrinkled uniform and ripe socks out
of the dirty hamper and carry them to the tub.
You pour in water and detergent and scrub
the silky shirt and shorts. You rub the muddy
socks together and watch the clear water turn
brown. Your work feels like magic as the clothes
come clean, shining as you hang them on the line.
People have been scrubbing clothes for thousands
of years. Yet you doubted your hands could work
as well as a machine. As the clothes dry in the sun
you wonder about your doubts, the other powers
your hands hold and how you can release them –
laundry waving, prayer flags in the wind.
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With a grateful heart, Karly