Mom taught me to iron

 Do you have your reservation yet? If not, you’ve probably let your mother down. Geez! Come on and get with it. This Sunday is Mother’s Day, the busiest restaurant day of the year. And I’m guessing there will be even more traffic this year because we are all sick of being cooped up by COVID.

Since my mother passed years ago, I still find the occasion a good excuse to dine out, something for which I’m sure she would be proud. When I was a kid, the day consisted of going to church, then to one of the best restaurants in Anderson, Don’s Bar-B-Q. How appropriate is that! This should give some sense of the high level of cuisine found in my Indiana hometown. Don specialized in, well, Bar-B-Q, but he also made scrumptious fried chicken.  The culinary delight was not as good as my mother’s fried chicken, which was typical Sunday fare at the Hamilton house, but mom didn’t have to prepare it on this special day. What better way to honor your mother than to stuff your face?

My mother was a pretty typical 1950s and 60s woman. She did not work outside of our home, but homemaking, proper home engineering, was her calling. Mom created a nest where any self-respecting husband or child would want to live. I still have clear images of her sweeping, dusting, planting flowers, cooking three meals a day, and reading her Bible.

Mom was a gifted laundry entrepreneur. Drawers and closets were always brimming with fresh smelling, well-folded, and carefully hung articles of clothing. I can still smell the aroma of Tide and Downey wafting into the kitchen from the laundry room, which was located between our garage and the kitchen/dining room. Our family had a high-end, dark brown, Norge washer and dryer. Large cabinets hung above the machines, which mom could not reach without the help of a stepstool. The cupboard contained every cleaning chemical known to man. No stain ever survived for long in the Hamilton house.

Across from the laundry machines was a north-facing window. Various flowers adorned the windowsill and to the right of the window hung the ironing board and a unique gadget created by my inventor father upon which to hang the iron. This was a serious clothes cleaning room.

Mom ironed almost everything. I remember sitting at the bar in our kitchen, looking across the room at the queen of the house, making shirts, pants, handkerchiefs, and even bedding look like it just came from the store. I can smell the heat of the iron and hear the steam erupting from the iron plate, which was only produced from distilled water.

I am reminded that there is dignity found in the most mundane jobs performed with honor. Watching mom perform this task made me want to learn how to iron. She was glad to teach me this skill which I still practice today. The training began with handkerchiefs. My father always carried embroidered handkerchiefs, and they were always perfectly wrinkle-free and folded with an iron. Perfect handkerchief ironing was the foundation of all clothing pressing. I quickly developed a knack for this job and advanced to socks, bed linens, trousers, and the most challenging but critical article – the shirt. In my father’s world, a man who wore an un-ironed shirt was a sluggard. Dad was an impeccable dresser, and the perfect shirt and tie combination was essential. No wrinkle dared accompany my father to work, and mom made it happen without fail.  

After much perseverance, I advanced to shirts. To this day, if my shirts are not dry-cleaned and pressed, they are skillfully ironed by yours truly. I learned some important lessons from my mother and this tedious task.  Importantly, I learned these lessons more from observing her performing the job than if she told me how to do it. Last week I found myself ironing t-shirts! This is what it has come to.

Faith irons out the most significant issues in life. The idea of ironing is to take something full of wrinkles and smooth it out until it looks new. The cloth becomes polished and sharp-looking again.

Life is full of wrinkles. Trusting God irons them out. I learned this by watching my mother’s life. By watching her, I began to desire what she possessed, and then she helped me learn how to live in faith. I am still learning. Faith is kind of like ironing; it as much caught as taught.

I watched mom read the Bible, pray, talk about church, love my father and her children, weep when my young sister died, and sing hymns while washing the dishes.

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine.

Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine.

Heir of salvation, purchase of God.

Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

This is my story; this is my song,

Praising my Savior all the day long.

This is my story; this is my song,

Praising my Savior all the day long.

I wonder how many life issues were worked out at the ironing board? I wonder how often mom and Jesus were having a silent discussion, even as I observed? Faith in God will iron out the worst wrinkles in life. Another of mom’s favorites was;

Trust and obey,

For there’s no other way.

To be happy in Jesus,

But to trust and obey.

My mother was far from perfect, and I know she, too, struggled with her faith at times. When my sister died at age twenty-eight, right after she gave birth to a precious little girl, I know mom must have felt the bewilderment, confusion, anger, and depression of any parent that loses a child. But sooner or later, faith brings us back around, and we trust that God is still there and still loves us. She never “got over” losing her oldest daughter but remained faithful to God, who helped her go on with life.

Faith irons out the thorniest issues in life.  I am reminded of a young man named Timothy.  Part of his story is told in the Bible. Timothy was a young convert to Christianity through the ministry of the Apostle Paul. Timothy became Paul’s protégé and close friend. The young man’s mother and grandmother were Christians, but it is believed that his father, who was Greek, was not.

Paul encouraged Timothy on several occasions, and in his second letter, he reminded his child in the faith about his faith roots.

“5 I remember your genuine faith, for you share the faith that first filled your grandmother Lois and your mother, Eunice. And I know that same faith continues strong in you.”

(2 Timothy 1:5 NLT)

Timothy, who became Paul’s successor in leadership, came to follow Jesus because of the example of his mother and grandmother.  A little later in the same letter, Paul explained further.

“14 But you must remain faithful to the things you have been taught. You know they are true, for you know you can trust those who taught you. 15 You have been taught the holy Scriptures from childhood, and they have given you the wisdom to receive the salvation that comes by trusting in Christ Jesus.” (2 Timothy 3:14-15 NLT)

Example, plus trust, plus teaching is powerful and effective. Timothy observed parents and grandparents, whom he trusted and from whom he learned to trust the Scriptures.

Like all of us, Timothy would face many wrinkles in life, but his mother and grandmother had taught him how to iron them out.  Place your faith and trust God.

Thanks for teaching me to iron, mom.  Moms, you have a life-changing and world-changing calling. Enjoy it and keep trusting God. Your children are watching you iron!

 Live Inspired!

 Don Mark