Thoughts on Bathing, Contentment and My Washing Machine Has a Sari Setting.

If I were in the states right now, I would take a bubble bath. The house is clean. The children are sleeping. I've finished my chores for the day and I've just brewed a cup of a tea. Obviously, the next to do after a long, day-well-done (or day-not-well-done) is a bath. I love baths. Whenever I returned home during a college break, one of the first to-dos on the check list was take a bath. Not bath, as in get clean, but take a bath, as in, get the water as hot as you can stand it and soak.

Confession: When I was in 7th grade, I bought one of those calming music cd's you can find at Target. The ones with the names like "Rain Twinkle" or "Stormy Sundays." Mine was called, get ready, "Dance of the Dolphins." There was swelling, synthesized music and dolphins squeaked (? is that what dolphins do? What do dolphins do? What is their sound called? I don't know.) in and out of the distance. I would sit in the bath tub and listen to that cd. This confession reveals that one can LEARN good taste. It is nurtured. I had bad taste in calming music. Now my taste is better. Onward.

I can't take baths here. #1. We don't have a bath tub. #2. The water often (and I mean often) smells like fecal matter. Like, not only do you not want to shower in it, you definitely don't want to bath in it. #3. The water doesn't really get hot enough to fill the tub and be hot by the end of the filling.

So tonight, I'm sipping my tea and soaking my feet in our kids bucket bath tub. It's bigger than a bucket. About the size of a baby bath tub. It is divine. I can feel my shoulders relaxing. I can feel the shivers run up to my head. If I don't think too much about how this isn't a bath, I can really enjoy it.

That. That last sentence is the theme of what God is doing in my heart and my life these days. "If I don't think too hard about how ________ isn't a ________, I can really enjoy it." I hate it when someone wants me to be something I'm not, or harangues me for the things I didn't do, rather than notice the things I've done. Why do I do that to people? Why do I do that to life? To a gracious and loving Father who gives me good gifts. I just have to open my eyes and see. When you try to make a puppy into a pony, the puppy proves to be a disappointment. But if you delight in the puppy for what it is, a puppy, then JOY springs endless! (Reverting back to childhood memories again...stop. But it does reveal that I've struggled with this for a long time, eh?)

My washing machine is small. It doesn't have hot water. The dryer is my drying rack outside. But it DOES have a sari setting, which is cool. I'm still not sure what it does, but sometimes I press it and nothing bad happens. And my drying rack is so much more than a drying rack. It's suspended on pulleys from the ceiling, which saves space and allows flexibility, and anyone who knows me, knows that I LOVE that. And drying your laundry by the air makes you more aware of the weather. And it makes you go outside at least twice a day. And it makes me thankful. And it makes me aware of what my neighbors in the slum next door and even other apartment buildings endure when it rains because at least my porch is covered and theirs isn't. And it forces the day into a rhythm it would otherwise lack. And it makes the clothes smell fresh. And a lot of other things. Things are different, but if I forget to focus on how they're not what they used to be, I can delight in them in ways I never thought possible.

All of this to say, I am learning to enjoy things for what they are. Enjoy my children for who they are. Enjoy my husband and my friends for who they are, where they are, right now. Praying for them, yes. Hating our sins together, yes. I'm not talking about complacency. I'm talking about being delighted in the good things that are here, now, and learning to relax in the tepid water of my foot bath on a Monday night with a cup of chamomile.

Praise be to God.