Episode Transcript
HEAR
Acts 1:8 (NIV)
"But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”
CONSIDER
Today our Holy Spirit story comes from pastor Betsy Parrish. Born, raised, and still living in Albany, Georgia, Betsy is a mother of three—sixteen-year-old Biz, fourteen-year-old Cannon, and twelve-year-old Wilkes. She is married to Alan, her high school sweetheart, and they have been married now twenty-one years. She teaches first grade as her profession and enjoys building a little community with her students.
When Betsy gets a moment and a nudge from the Holy Spirit, she writes. She has a blog that she keeps up, though less now since she teaches, but there are times when the words are the only thing that will do. You can take a peak at it here: https://dailyparrscription.blog/
In this story, you'll be encouraged to hear how the Holy Spirit met Betsy in motherhood during a laundry mishap. Below, you can read the story in her own words, and, if you listen, you will hear it in her own voice.
I spend a significant amount of my life washing clothes. With three very active kids, a husband, a dog, and myself, there is never a shortage of laundry to be done. When everyone takes off their clothes, a load is created. The task feels sort of never-ending but it’s rarely mundane—there’s always a stain to be tackled, a sock to be hunted down, and puzzles to unwind when the kids manage to take their socks, underwear, and pants off all in one matrix of a piece. (Surely that’s a talent that could take them places one day? No?)
The kids and my husband, Alan, all love to goad me in the dominion of my laundry doings . . . let’s just say I run a tight laundry room. It’s actually my little sanctuary where you can find me often, and sometimes with my cell phone propped and listening to a Wake-Up Call, music, or some other Instagram reel as I’m scrubbing and sorting and folding and hanging dry. There are so many nuances in laundry! But everything must.get.clean! And smell fresh! And be white and bright! (And not shrink—am I right, ladies? Those jeans condense every.single.time. It’s nothing to do with the Nutella jar emptying on my pantry shelf!)
In my haste one day, I threw a mixed load into the washer tub and started it up. After singing the siren song (I joke that that noise may be a soundtrack in hell . . .) indicating the cycle was finished, I threw the soggy wet pile into the dryer without care and started it. I heard the dryer cycle signal (which is the second song on a loop in the place I’m not going), but I didn’t rush to grab the clothes because the laundry does.not.own.me! Later that night, as I was folding said load, I noticed that my oldest daughter’s favorite article of clothing had large blue stains all over it. Upon further investigation, I found the culprit: a brand new pair of navy terry cloth shorts of my other daughter’s had been mixed in the load. All pressed up together in the dark, cavernous washer, the navy shorts bled onto the solid white onesie and ruined it. (Side note of importance: the onesie is my sixteen-year-old’s, and if you have a girl around that age, you know, and if not—just imagine a large sheet sewn all along the edges but with leg holes and arm holes—that costs an arm and a leg—and that’s it. They are very on trend and I can’t make it make sense, but now you know!) I knew that this was not going to bode well when the news broke and I had a newfound mission: out, out darn spot!
Over the course of a couple of days, I arm wrestled the spots all over the outfit. I tried every trick in my book (and I have many if you ever need tips—ha!) and those spots meant they were there to stay. They didn’t flinch at my large laundry arsenal, and I was running out of ideas.
When I fessed up to my oldest daughter that her onesie would now be better suited as a car wash rag, she was not thrilled, to say the least. A little blame was cast around—on me (how dare she question my cleaning prowess!), the sister and her pair of shorts—by me—why didn’t y’all pay attention when you threw your clothes in the basket and separate them? Blah, blah, blah. Bullets hurled from our mouths, and now stains weren’t just on the onesie, but on our hearts as well. It was messy.
Of course the rest of the day’s tone was sort of set. There was arguing and discord, and the whole house was rattled by the war that raged within our walls over a single article of clothing. The dog laid low with his tail tucked, and the fellas of our house found the nearby golf course to serve as an evacuation zone to avoid the shrapnel.
I found myself back in the laundry room, steaming (and not from the iron). I grabbed the bottle of bleach and as a last-ditch effort, doused the garment and scrubbed with a toothbrush. I could see white splotches popping up where it looked like the dye was disappearing ink and I really didn’t care at that point (I am ashamed of my childlike behavior; I’m working on it!). I hurled the garment into the drum of the washer, and added MORE bleach to the reservoir along with washing soap. I started the cycle entitled “Bright Whites” and left it be. I heard the washer call later but I did not answer because I was still big mad and in my feelings. That ruined onesie could wait.
The smoke had cleared by nightfall, and as I was preparing for bed, I decided to grab the romper to throw into the dryer so it wouldn’t stink up my washer. As I pulled it out, I was flabbergasted. Yes. By laundry. There wasn’t a single stain on that piece of clothing and no evidence that bleach had ruined any part of the dye on it. It was cleansed: white as snow. (Okay, not white white, more candle light white, but still, I hope you are getting my connection!)
As my skin tingled with the Holy Spirit’s presence in the sanctuary of my laundry room, I knew who it was that ordained the cleansing. And it wasn’t just this silly little outfit, but it was just this silly little outfit too. Who knew a washing machine would serve as an altar and cold tile as a kneeling bench?
Jesus sees it all, he cares about it all (even laundry, my friends) and he has paid it all, and all to Him I owe. Sin had left a navy blue stain, and He washed it white as snow.
Thanks be to God.
PRAY
Lord, thank You for reminding us today that You care about every single detail of our lives. You are with us in every moment and never leave our side. We praise You for meeting us in the extraordinary and the mundane, the simple and the complex, and show us Your love and attention to detail. We commit today to You. Cook with us. Clean with us. Do our laundry with us. We need You in every moment and cherish Your presence. Praying in the name of Jesus, amen.
