With four boys in the house, we get a whole new load every time the lights go off and we head to bed.
It never seems to end.
There is dirty laundry and then there is dirty laundry..
When it is not ours to wash, fold, and put away, we like hearing about the dirty laundry of others.
I see it in my own blog. When I write hard, raw stuff telling the salacious details of the walking, living nightmare that invaded our lives, so many more people read. It’s as if the world lives for hearing or vicariously walking through the ugly others are forced to know.
Sometimes I think we just like to rubberneck at the train wrecks others experience; other times, it’s almost like we are somehow safe when it is happening to others.
Until we are not.
Until the evening news invades our lives…
Don’t think that by writing this, I am somehow above it all. The truth is I am not. I am a rubber necker by nature too.
Dirty Laundry takes many forms. In some cases it can happen to us; in other circumstances, it is the accumulation of our own choices, decisions, and actions.
Several weeks ago, my almost 16 year old asked Becki and me why we never married all those years ago. He already knew about my broken heart and emotional breakdown. He was aware of my decision to join the US Navy in a last ditch effort to gain some direction and discipline.
But then he heard what happened in the year leading up to joining the military, information his older brothers had never heard.
….Dad (me) spent a year working as a male dancer/ stripper in a “ladies club.”
My poor son, like many of you at this moment, was absolutely speechless, horrified, and somehow fascinated by this secret life he had never heard of before.
Some of you even now are trying to imagine/ not imagine what that was like. And like him, you are wondering how this preacher’s son could have sunk to such a low.
Maybe you are embarrassed for my parents at this blatant display of dirty laundry.
Or worse, you are shocked by my admission and possibly feeling sorry for the potential humiliation Becki may yet endure…
But the truth is, both my parents and Becki are laughing pretty hard right about now. They along with my oldest son, who is in on the joke, are amazed at how gullible my almost 16 year old is…
Even funnier, he doesn’t read what I write and is still chomping at the bit to ask his grandfather about this sordid time in my life.
So be honest. I also had you there for just the briefest of moments, didn’t I? For just a short while, you were prepared to believe some really dirty laundry.
Go ahead and laugh at yourself. It’s almost as funny as the idea of me being a dancer in a strip club.
Almost, but not quite. I couldn’t dance my way out of a wet paper bag, much less some village people outfit!
The moral of the story? Am I just trying to drum up new readers and keep the old readers engaged?
No. Not really. The truth is the title will grab some attention and the stats might show a higher number of readers than would a sappy happy, happy, happy post.
Instead, the moral of the story is really quite simple. Whether the dirty laundry is self-inflicted or the result of the evening news invading someone’s life (I am proud of that phrase), there is always great pain and heartache involved.
The next time you are tempted to rubberneck (and judge), remember, you are gazing in on what might be the most horrifying event a person could ever experience.
You are welcome to share mine as long as you are willing to wash a load or two with me.
Aren’t you glad God isn’t scared off by dirty laundry? Tomorrow or the next day, I will share some of my ongoing dirty laundry in my struggle back to faith.
Thank you for reading, commenting, liking, subscribing, and sharing.
Les Ferguson, Jr.