Peaches and Laundry

Nothing for it but to do it. - Me

I don't really know where I came across that phrase.  Maybe I made it up.  Maybe I heard it from some resident of southern Indiana. I do know when it became an important phrase to me: when I was picking peaches as a summer job.

Every weekday, all summer, I got up in the morning and drove twenty minutes to a peach orchard.  I sat by the barn in the center of the orchard and waited for the owner to give me my assignment for the day.  Sometimes I got to drive the trucks and deliver peaches.  Mostly, though, I just picked peaches.  From eight in the morning until about four or five in the afternoon.  I was not particularly skilled or fast at picking peaches, and the job only lasted a few summers.

One particularly hot afternoon, probably in late July, I began picking in a new row.  I looked down that seemingly unending row of trees, thick with ripe peaches, and I felt tired.  I looked at my watch to see how much time was left in the day.  Way too much, I'm sure.  I realized I could either stand there for the next three hours or I could pick some peaches.  As I started down the row, I told myself, "Nothing for it but to do it."  That became my theme as the summer went on.  One more row, one more tree, one more peach.

Now, after the anxiety of the approaching end of the semester, the excitement of graduation, and the exhaustion that followed, I find myself yet again looking at a long row of ripe peaches, only this time, the task ahead of me is laundry.  And dishes.  And feeding the baby, dressing the baby, changing the baby's diapers, clothing the baby, putting the baby to sleep.  Again, there's nothing for it but to do it.

I am tempted to play the "if only" game.  If only my church would hire me.  If only I had another class to take.  If only I lived in Indiana, closer to my family.  If only our car was not in the shop and I had a vehicle.

But in truth, I actually liked picking peaches most of the time.  I liked being outside.  I liked seeing the miracle of tasty, juicy peaches emerging from among the leaves.  I liked the people I worked with.  I liked driving the trucks through the orchard and around the area, delivering peaches.

And I like having a baby.  He's pretty much the cutest thing ever.  And I don't hate laundry or dishes.  More importantly, I like having clean clothes and clean plates.  It is not the tasks themselves that are so difficult; it is the fear that nothing will ever change.  That this row will last forever, that this day will last forever, that this stage of life will last forever.

One of my friends reminded me the other day of the need for mindfulness, of being present.  The title of Eugene Peterson's excellent book comes to mind: A Long Obedience in the Same Direction.  Eventually the end of peach season comes.  (All the peaches never get picked; you just move on.)  Eventually, I will have other opportunities, other jobs, and a baby who walks.

In the meantime, I will wash one more set of sheets, put one more spoon in the dishwasher, and feed the baby one more time.

I will also enjoy watching the mama robin who has built a nest in the hanging plant on our porch.  I will listen to Adrian Plass (thanks, Mom!) and laugh as he delivers the announcements and prays over cabbage.  I will read The Hunger Games all day without feeling guilty about what I should be reading instead.  I will make up endless verses about exactly what Old MacDonald's farm contained.  I will get together with friends and play games, and I will plan parties on the back patio.  I will play ultimate frisbee every Saturday afternoon and cherish the opportunity to run around in the sunshine with friends (and hopefully win more often than not).

As they say, "Nothing for it but to do it."