When you love something, you want to tend to it well.
When you tend to something well, you tend to love it more.
This little, significant cycle plays out in every area of our home, in every place we have possessions. But it is perhaps most clearly seen in our relationship to our clothing.
Laundry is a rhythm that every household shares; it is its own circulatory system within the home. New clothes come in, are worn, are washed, again, again, again, until they are worn out or don’t fit and are passed on.
And when we love those clothes—when we open our drawer and see only clothes that fit our bodies, fit our minds, fit our place and time in life and equip us to do exactly what we want to do—it’s a gift to ourselves every time we get dressed. Some days it feels like a jolt of energy, some days like an envelope of comfort—but there’s no question that it injects joy into our daily rhythm.
And when we love our clothes, laundry flows and circulates more smoothly. Washing, drying, folding, putting away feel less burdensome when every item of clothing is like a friend you’re happy to welcome back into your drawer.
But when there’s a spoke in the wheel of tending to clothes—when the laundry backs up (as, at times, it does for all of us), when it hangs like a burdensome chore, when mending and folding and choosing clothes all feel impossible, then all our clothes look dim to us.
But at the same time, when all of our clothes look dim to us, it may be because they don’t fit our bodies, don’t fit our minds, don’t fit our place and time in life—and opening our drawer to that is a drain on our energy and motivation.
That’s when it’s time to back up, and do two things at once: focus on the things we love, and take the time to tend them well.
When we tend to something well, we tend to love it more.
When we love something, we ought to tend to it well.