“We ought not to be weary of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed.” –Brother Lawrence
I weary of the endless dishes and the still more endless laundry.
I weary of feeding the constantly hungry babies and changing their diapers and patting their bums to try to get them to go to sleep.
I weary of asking my kids to please clean up the Lego mess and the puzzle pieces that are strewn all over the floor and the piles of boxes and bottles that they’ve rescued from the recycle bin “to make things with.”
“What are you going to make?” I ask.
Jack shrugs. “I don’t know.”
But I digress.
I was speaking of weariness. Of how tiring it is to do the same things over and over and over again. Of how it often feels pointless. Of how I often wish I had a more glamorous life.
There was nothing glamorous about the pots and pans that Brother Lawrence washed day in and day out in his monastery’s kitchen.
And there is nothing glamorous in the pots and pans that I wash in mine. Or in the diapers that I change. Or in the peanut butter sandwiches I make.
But it is not the littleness of the work that makes my life feel wearisome. It is the littleness of my love.
So today, when I wash yet another pot and change yet another diaper and make yet another peanut butter sandwich, I will try to do these little things for love.
Because little things done with great love become great things. Possibly even glamorous things. Certainly glorious things. Because great love glorifies God.
And is this not our chief end? To glorify God and enjoy Him forever?
Yes. And yes. And yes.
Here’s to another load of laundry. With love.