Laundromat Reflections

I think if you were to ask most of our volunteers, interns, or teammates of the best part of this work, a lot of them would say something about the neighbors: how we get to share life with them, how we learn from them, how they care for us well, how a hug from a kiddo makes our day, etc. While this is the heart of all of our work, sometimes the to-do lists can try to consume. It’s refreshing when our day turns into sitting in a waiting room talking with a neighbor, or eating popsicles with some kids.

Recently, one of our teammates has been taking a group of folks to the local laundromat each week. Our role in this is to simply drive the van, provide some soap and quarters, and hangout while the clothes are washing. One of our rockstar volunteers comes with us, and has taken it upon herself to make personalized birthday treats for the neighbors the week of their birthday. There are often card games. We talk about our week. It’s a reminder to us that we need not do it all, we are invited to just be present. It feels rooted. It feels communal. It feels chaotic sometimes, but it also feels simple. Below is a writing excerpt from our teammate reflecting on life in light of her weekly laundromat trips:

“The local laundromat has been drawing me into a space of simplicity. It’s an unlikely mission field, yet this quietly whirring pitstop is gently stirring something deep in my soul. Maybe it’s the way the glass walls create a haven-like space for the weary wanderers of this life. Perhaps it’s the simple existence of the building that gathers mothers, brothers, and me to itself every week. I haven’t decided if it’s the idea of doing something good or the longing to just be that causes me to pause here every week. In the kiddie corner I sit, styrofoam cup of coffee in hand, as I hear the whisper, “I meet you here, too.” No need for a sudsy cleansing of my days. I need not be presented crisp, without a wrinkle in sight. The muddy footprints leading to this very seat serve as evidence of this very real, laborious life. And still, “I meet you here, too.” This well worn body of mine is finding deep rest, in a tiny laundromat, next to my neighbors. Maybe we come here each week as an act of resilience in a world of systems in which this necessity is too often deprived, or maybe we come here to be reminded that we are met where we are, as we are. I think it’s a little bit of both.” - Faith Borowy