Orchestra of home appliances stirs gratitude

Sometimes, as I drift off to sleep, I find myself thinking about appliances.

Around midnight, my house isn’t silent. The steady thumping of jeans being tossed in the dryer pounds out a monotonous rhythm.

A click and whir, and the sound of running water lets me know the dishwasher has started the rinse cycle.

I hear the muffled roar of the gas fireplace from the basement, as it sends its warmth up through the heating vents.

The sloshing, bubbly sound of the washing machine adds its own distinct music to my nighttime symphony.

I call this late-night lullaby my Thanksgiving Hum. On cold winter nights when I burrow deeply into my quilts and fluff my down-filled pillow, these sounds remind me of how much I have to be thankful for.

I often find myself living in Not Enough Land – not enough time, not enough money, not enough of me to go around. The pressing needs of four growing boys and repetitive household chores leave me grumbling: If only I had more. … It’s easy to forget how much I already have.

I complain about how cramped our home feels when so many are without shelter.

I don’t have to travel to Louisiana to find the homeless. I can drive downtown to City Gate and serve a few free meals.

When I return, my home suddenly seems spacious. For the folks at City Gate the luxury of appliances isn’t even in their dreams. You don’t long for a dishwasher when you’re hungry.

Yet, still I find it hard to feel grateful at 11:30 at night when I toss those jeans into the dryer. I grumble as I put soap in the dishwasher.

My family may load it, but I’m the only one who remembers to put soap in it and turn it on!

But sometimes, after an exhausting day in Not Enough Land, the nighttime sounds of appliances doing their work become beautiful music to my ears, and gratitude fills my soul.

I don’t have to lug clothes to a Laundromat or pound them out on rocks beside a muddy river. That full washing machine means my family has plenty of clothes to wear.

The dishwasher clanking into its rinse cycle means once again my family has had more than enough to eat. Even my nose peeking out of my quilt is warm.

I’m sleeping on a Serta instead of in my Subaru.

My eyes are heavy. I’m lulled to sleep by the music of luxury.

Appliances – the sound of my Thanksgiving Hum.