Ros Boydell
My Scottish friend, Ros, not only makes me smile with her stories, she listens to God in the midst of her every day life and communicates so well what she hears. May you be blessed by her story of her birthday desire and where God led her. Thank you Ros for sharing your wisdom.
“During that strange first summer of lockdown, I splashed out on a purchase. Something I hoped would bring a little joy to a bewildering time: new pegs.
They weren’t any pegs, they were from a shop I’d not normally frequent, a premier local household store, top quality and with a price tag to match. I bought one pack of twenty, and added them to my motley crew of existing pegs, many of which are as old as our marriage.
Where are you going with this story? I hear you ask. Well, recently it was my birthday. And in the run up to it, when I was asked questions about what I’d like as a gift, I found myself thinking about these pegs.
Using my new pegs, with their smooth action and firm grip, felt as I imagine it would to drive a Ferrari after a lifetime driving an Escort. Satisfying, so very very efficient, and a feast for the eyes. But my enjoyment of them had only served to highlight how old and decrepit the rest of my peg collection was. Each time I put my hand into the peg bag, just as my fingers clasped the plastic, there would be a moment of anticipation Which peg will my fingers meet? The ones with splintered edges, loose springs, or one of my twenty- elegant, colourful, strong, reliable – new ones?
In the days leading up to my birthday, I imagined to myself a scenario where the entirety of my peg collection was the new Lakeland brand. Could I imagine that? Every.single.time. I reached into the bag, I could guarantee what sort I’d get.
I sat one evening with my present-buying companion, drinking tea, and I told him about the pegs, and spoke out where I had gone with my thoughts –
…so then I wondered to myself, you know, does my desire for new pegs not simply reveal my deep need for control? I’m living in a chaotic world that unsettles me, do I just do whatever I can to order as much as my environment as I can? Perhaps, after all, it’s a good exercise for me to keep my mixed-bag of pegs. A reminder to me that I’m not in control, and I don’t need to be? That the discomfort of inconsistent pegs can remind me that I’m created, not the the Creator, that I’m…..
As I whitter away my companion looks over. I pause.
He speaks no words, but his eyebrows communicate what he’s saying quite clearly
Is this what you spend your time thinking about?
I pause, again.
Overthinking, moi? My own eyebrows ask in response.
I realise in that moment that I’m thinking about it all wrong. Yes, as a human I have an inbuilt propensity towards desiring control. But not all of that desire is bad, needing to be gouged out. Why is it that I seem to assume the hardest option is the one that’s best for me? Where did I learn that?
For sure, there’s wisdom in sometimes making less comfortable choices. But we’ve also been given agency. When God introduced Adam and Eve to the garden of Eden, he gave them dominion, authority, over what he had created (Genesis 1). The fall happened, life became a complex mess – but that call to rule over the world has not changed. In the picture of the Throne room in heaven that we see depicted in Revelation 5, one of the songs of sung to the Lamb contains these words about all people
You have made them to be a kingdom and priests to serve our God,
and they will reign on the earth. (Rev.5:10)
It is part of our creation mandate, and new creation mandate to rule over the earth. To exercise choice, to exert authority. Ordering our environments is part of that – it’s not to be shied away from.
So I gave myself permission to ask for new pegs.
I’ve often considered the simple acts of laundry and housework something noble. In each washing away of a stain, or wiping of a surface we consecrate our homes with an echo of shalom. The peace of Eden was so brutally shattered, but when a floor is swept, or a piece of clothing hung on a line to dry, there comes in its wake a tiny glint of redemption. Blink and you’ll miss it. But if you are so inclined to notice, the humdrum is elevated to hallowed, and our homes breathe with the fresh air of Eden-restored.
There are no places on earth outwith the rule and dominion of our Creator God. And consequently, our mundane household chores are bestowed with a profundity rarely attributed them. Dusting the house becomes blessing the house, as blessing acts to push back the advances of the curse, sin, the fall (in the form of microscopic particles of debris). This domestic work is magnanimous. We are fighting in the resistance against decay. We are honouring ourselves and those we live with with the dignity of cleanliness.
Of course, it’s easy to wax lyrical about the privilege of cleaning whilst sitting with a cup of tea, in a comfy chair, writing about pegs. It’s somewhat harder to keep that perspective when actually occupied with the unglamorous labour of which we speak. I wonder also if that’s partly due to our cultural lack of vision for homemaking. These duties aren’t valued, so consequently are squeezed in to the in-between times, rushed and resented, rather than embraced, and dare-I-say-it, enjoyed.
But, I’ve said enough, and it’s time for me to get up and practice what I preach, by emptying the dishwasher. I grimace slightly as the cogs in my brain try and work out a way to see this as a joyous activity rather than something to be endured. I land in the place of thankfulness. Thankful that our house is full and the dishwasher often needs emptying. Thankful that I have cupboards full of crockery. Thankful that every item in there represents some way that we have been fed and watered. Thankful for the dishwasher itself, which works its magic each day in the fight against grime and putridity.
Oh, but what of the birthday pegs? Were they everything I’d hoped for?
Simple answer: Yes. They are simply marvellous 
“
If you missed Ros’s words, Rest – To What End? that I published on Echoes on April 4, 2022, click here. In the middle of summer, these words are so timely.
