Laundromat thoughts

4.5 years in to Brooklyn life and here’s some laundromat thoughts this morning. 

I like knowing my neighbors, having friendships that exist with familiar faces doing laundry at the 7am opening slot.  I like that Sal always offers me treats from Leskes bakery and that Lu is catching up on her Chinese soap operas. 

I like my matching laundry bags that have been thrown down our steps countless times, and how all of our sheets and towels and comforters can be fresh with just three machines and an hour and a half. 

Sometimes I can be so self-focused at how hard it is to stay on top of all the things I need to stay on top of, but I look around and see other families working hard too with their kids in tow. And although this morning I woke up feeling very overwhelmed by my daunting to-do list, at least I know that I am not defined by my accomplishments or how well I execute the tasks that are set before me. I know that God has provided grace for me in daily doses and that even if I fail, my identity is not in myself but in Christ. So although my hustle is similar to those at the laundromat with me, I have an identity relief that not all know about or claim. 

And my final laundromat thought is this: as inconvenient as it is to have a pigtailed toddler strapped to me while folding and hauling laundry, it sure is sweet and I know this season is short-lived. Once upon a time toddler Edith was strapped to my back too.