A Lovely Day Ironing
A Lovely Day Ironing
I once hated ironing, and I do not employ the verb lightly. I avoided the chore whenever possible and finally met the pile of wrinkled laundry with hot, resentful tears. The ever-gracious and patient Lord was working on my heart, however. As I struggled with the unwieldy iron one day, my heart furious with wrinkles that only seemed to multiply, I was suddenly brought to rein.
Why am I so angry? Why am I so discontent? Why am I brooding over every little detail that exasperates me? Something isn’t right: This is sin! Where is the joy and thankfulness that I am supposed to have in serving the Lord—yes, even in the most mundane tasks of keeping a home and family? I am having an awful time. This bitterness is poisoning my day and my heart. Lord, heal me of this ugly attitude!
I “fought for joy,” to borrow John Piper’s phrase. I decided then and there—in the strength of the Lord—that I would seek out the beauty and pleasure of this task that, realistically, I would probably have to do for the rest of my life. After all, if I was going to spend a lot of time on it, I might as well enjoy myself, yes? And do it to the glory of God, yes?
So I chose to notice—even relish—the smells, the warmth, the feel. I think Cheryl Mendelson expresses it well: “Ironing gratifies the senses. The transformation of wrinkled, shapeless cloth into the smooth and gleaming folds of a familiar garment pleases the eye. The good scent of ironing is the most comfortable smell in the world. And the fingertips enjoy the changes in the fabrics from cold to warm, wet to dry, and rough to silky.” [Home Comforts: The Art and Science of Keeping House]
I love to iron now. Sometimes I will delay ironing just so that I can have the satisfaction of a great big pile of shapeless lumps transformed into gleaming stacks of clothes. (Is it not interesting how God managed to turn that around?)
Once you learn to embrace it, the peaceful rhythm of ironing allows you to occupy your mind elsewhere. You can learn Italian with tapes, as one lady did, or you can simply think. You can pray, listen to recorded lectures or sermons or books or music, or watch a favorite movie. We know one lady who irons her husband’s shirts while watching film reproductions of Charles Dickens’s or Jane Austen’s stories.
Strike up the music, maestro: let us iron!
My family knows as a matter of fact that my ironing and my music go together. I have actually organized a playlist entitled “A Lovely Day Ironing,” a compilation of the romantic and leisurely and sprightly and inspiring in the realm of music. For those of you who are interested, the playlist includes: (Follow the links to hear samples; I promise you that it will be worth it! You might discover a new favorite.)
May Breezes [from Songs Without Words, Felix Mendelssohn]
Billy the Kid Waltz [from Rodeo, Aaron Copland]
The Lark Ascending [Ralph Vaughn Williams]
The Oceanides [Jean Sibelius]
Short Trip Home [Edgar Meyer]
Liebesfreud [Kriesler]
Dance-Intermezzo [Jean Sibelius]
O Mio Babbino Caro (Instrumental) [Puccini]
Blue Tango [Leroy Anderson]
Ballet Suite [from Die Puppenfee, Bayer]
Wedding Day at Troldhaugen [Edvard Grieg]
The John Dunbar Theme [from Dances with Wolves, John Barry]
excerpts from Appalachian Spring [Aaron Copland]
Valzer-Serenade [Lugi Maurizo Tedeschi]
Jernvags-Galopp [Frans Hoyer]
Bolero [Maurice Ravel]
The Cuckoo [from The Birds, Ottorino Resphighi]
The Swan [from The Carnival of Animals, Camille Saint-Saens]
(I could really go on!) Now I look forward to ironing as a time when I can devote a large portion of my attention to music, which is an otherwise rare pleasure. (I don’t use it as background music: the volume is quite... er, elevated.) I even find myself ironing or even moving around the ironing board according to the music’s rhythm: majestic sweeps for Tchaikovsky’s “Valse de Fleurs,” tranquil movements for the “Cinema Paradiso” theme, or even hopping about with Copland’s “Hoedown.” My sister tells me that I should create a CD of my ironing music and have a photograph on the front of me dancing with the iron. Sounds like a lawsuit to me.
Provençal Ironing Water
I would like to share with you a remarkably simple recipe for sweet-smelling ironing water. It is much nicer than any synthetically-scented counterpart in the market and much thriftier. Pour 32 ounces of water with fifteen drops of Bulgarian lavender essential oil into a bottle and shake vigorously before decanting into your steam iron. Be sure to use purified or distilled water for the best results. Savor the the calming fragrance as you iron away wrinkles into warm smoothness.
It Isn't Work
November 12, 1927
It isn't work, if you like to do it.
It isn't work if it gives a thrill,
If always pleasant thoughts imbue it,
If you do it gladly and with a will.
It isn't "housework"—dusting, mending,
Scrubbing floors and baking things,
Washing dishes and pans unending,
To one who laughs and smiles and sings.
It isn't work, if you find good measure
Of cheer and sun in every minute.
It isn't housework—it's home-pleasure,
With a little love and laughter in it!
Photographs: taken from Flicker. Copyright held by respective owners.
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LITTLEST SISTER said...
I love this poem; it is so cheerful. I love her other poems too.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010 07:35 PM
Friday, April 10, 2009