The Day My Shirts Smelled Like Dogs

I believe you should live each day as if it is your last, which is why I don't have any clean laundry because, come on, who wants to wash clothes on the last day of their life?
-Unknown

I feel like many of my posts on this blog are about laundry (such as this one, or this one). Maybe because since doing laundry is such a momentous occasion in my life that I feel the innate urge to document it for the whole world - as if to say "See, I actually DO take care of myself!" Regardless, this summer I've been doing laundry a lot. I have a house with a washing machine and dryer and it doesn't cost $10 to wash all my clothes. Therefore, I don't have to wear my jeans for months in order to justify a washing and my permanent dirty-clothes pile is slowly becoming nonexistent.

A goal for my summer is to be as human and environmentally friendly as possible. From my food choices to the way I dispose of my waste to how I shop, I've been attempting to be intentional about the way I live my life in order to increase my well being and decrease any negative impact I may cause. I believe that this is what we all should be doing as divinely appointed caretakers of the creation we have been blessed to inhabit. Therefore, one of the first things that I did was remove any traces of harsh chemicals from my house and start using purely environmentally friendly, non-toxic, and biodegradable cleaning supplies. This, of course, also translates to my laundry. Gone are the conventional detergents and softeners - they have been replaced with healthy alternatives.

I was so extremely excited about my new products that I just had to do a load of laundry to celebrate, so I rounded up a bunch of dirty things, popped them in the machine, and put three squirts of fun new detergent into the machine. I closed it, placed the large car tire on top of the lid (otherwise the machine will escape while vigorously spinning), and walked away.

45 minutes later the wash was done and I was running slightly late for a wine tasting that I was attending. I ran to check on the laundry and transfer it over to the dryer when I realized that the dryer was already full of clean, dry, fluffy clothes that had been forgotten. There was no time to take them out, walk all the way to my room, put them down, walk all the way back (my room is right across the hall from the laundry room), and transfer over the wet clothes, so I just opted to leave them - "I'll change it when I get home."

I forgot.

In fact, I forgot about them for three full days. I only found the clothes when I decided to to laundry again ("I get to use my new fun detergent!!"). I opened the machine...something smelled slightly funny, but no matter, surely the heat in the dryer would sanitize (or at least, psudo-sanitize, obviously the dyer doesn't get that hot) whatever was on the clothes after being left wet for three days. I put the now almost dry clothes into the dryer, added a new biodegradable healthy dryer sheet, and started the cycle.

Two days later, I decided that I needed more clothes and discovered the dry ones in the dryer. Thankful that I didn't have to resort to washing more of the permanent dirty pile, I pulled the clothes out and took a whiff (I love the smell of clean laundry, so I always breathe deeply as I remove things from the dryer). I started coughing.

The laundry smelled horrible.

Stupid new healthy biodegradable dryer sheets, I thought, I'm never using those again, what a waste of money. Who would make a dryer sheet that smells like wet dog. Gross. In true college student style, I decided that I would just grin and bear the smell until I could get around to doing laundry again.

The next day I put on my dog-smelling clothes, used an extra amount of my new healthy deodorant, and went to face the day. Occasionally, when the breeze was just right, I would smell wet-dog trailing me, but for the most part my mountain breeze scented armpits kept my nose out of misery. That night some friends came over and in the course of conversation, I told them about my new dryer sheets and how awful they made the clothes smell. We all shook our heads in pity as I ran to my room to grab a shirt to prove my point.

"See, SEE, it smells like wet dog!" My friend took a tentative whiff and looked at me. "Matthias," she said "that doesn't smell like wet dog, that smells like mildew." I froze. Mildew. I glanced at my friend, "well, now, come to think of it, these are the clothes that I left in the washing machine for three days before I dried them." My friend gave me a look of horror and quickly handed my shirt back to me.

The next day, I took the pile of mildewed clothes (they still smelled like dog to me), popped them in the machine, used four squirts of my fancy new detergent, and immediately transferred them to the dryer when they were finished. They came out smelling nice and fresh, just like they should.

I feel like I'm going to learn so many lessons this summer.
-Matthias

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On Insecurity: 21 Years

“We're going to have to let truth scream louder to our souls than the lies that have infected us.”
 ― Beth Moore

I am an insecure person.

Probably more insecure that I would like to admit. I always attempt to put on a face of being that strong, confident, self-aware, laughing person that everyone wants to be friends with. But, underneath that facade is a little boy who is terrified of life.

It's spring break. I'm in Ft. Smith, Arkansas. A town that is a strange combination of two worlds. It tries to be a city, but the down-home redneck charm that characterizes rural Arkansas has found a way to sneak into the hustle and bustle of the modern town. Late model Corvettes are parked directly next to pickup trucks so large that one can't help but wonder about compensation. I'm in Starbucks right now. I watch farmers swagger in and order with a drawl as thick as the coffee they're drinking. I see high-school girls in expensive designer clothes giggle and flirt with the barista. Ft. Smith is a place that reminds me of my heart. Underneath the somewhat unsuccessful attempt at portraying an trendy town, small country Arkansas still exists.

I turn 21 tomorrow. It's strange to think that I've been alive that long. I love my life. Yet, over the past couple days of break, my insecure heart has poked its way to the front of my mind. I fight with feelings of inadequacy.  I wonder if the people that I'm spending break with actually enjoy my company. I lay in bed at night and wrestle through questions and desires that surprise and frustrate me - almost to the point of tears. Even though I'm laying right next to another person, loneliness clutches and squeezes my soul. Twenty-one isn't very old. I have life to look forward to, but will these emotions ever go away?

I catch myself as I start talking to Jesus. I begin to be reminded of truth. I am loved. I am invited by friends. I am safe. And Jesus whispers to me "rest." I exhale and the anxiety I carry in my shoulders melts into my pillow. The loneliness that characterizes my fears fades and my spirit begins to be filled. Insecurity may be part of my 21 year old self, but I am learning that true rest - rest with Jesus - takes that insecurity and replaces it with joy.

Regardless of the pain and hurt. Regardless of what dreams I have to let go. Regardless of the people and circumstances around me. My goal for my 21st year is to continue the process of letting my life be characterized by joy.

Happy Birthday to my 21 year old self. Let's grow this year.
-Matthias

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Wait, Where Did My Keys Go? | Reflections on 2011

“Open your mouth and sing out your song. Life is short as the day is long. Can't leave you my body, but I'll leave you a tune. This is my legacy, cheers to you.”
-Brooke Fraser

I have a confession to make – keeping track of my keys is a difficult task. I have a tendency to unlock a door and throw the keys down, not paying any attention to where they land. Often, through the course of my work, the keys get covered up with papers, books, and various items, which leads to a panicked tousle as I attempt to leave the room. And people wonder why my office is messy.

It's been a year of milestones, both personally and professionally. Friendships have been strengthened to points I never knew were possible. Goals have been reached and surpassed. I sit here and remember highlights – watching The Next Big Thing, an event that I poured my entire being into, become a successful reality; winning an ARTIE and having my artwork affirmed by both peers and professionals; bringing Switchfoot and Anberlin, two of Christian music's most influential bands to tiny Siloam Springs, Arkansas – wow. Then there are the other highlights, the ones that are so much more meaningful and important – sitting with a friend at two am on the night of one of the biggest blizzards Arkansas has ever seen and witnessing our surface-level friendship turn into a deep, life-changing relationship; long healing talks over tea with another friend; sharing life with a group of amazing guys who live on a hall named Summit State; late-night gallivanting doing daring deeds; seeing my family for the holidays after almost a year of separation. This year has been incredible.

The high points are paired with the low points. Paralyzing insecurities that left me helpless and searching. Watching as a dear friend was put in the hospital and dealing with the heart-wrenching pain of saying goodbye. Breaking down as the reality of a broken world sunk in, showing me that some of my deepest hopes and dreams must be surrendered. Working through anger and mild depression after harsh words were said by a person I trusted.

I am so blessed.

I see the thread that He has woven throughout the memories. The places where the needle penetrated, the places where souls were stitched together, and the places where the beauty of the tapestry brilliantly burst forth. Here I am, still in process. The needle will penetrate again. Yet, if 2011 is any indication of what is to be, let the stitches come. I am ready and willing, a smile on my face, with laughter not too far behind.

The Triune Being doesn't leave me like I leave my keys. He doesn't toss me off to the side, throw junk onto me, and then remember me later forgetting where I am.

He holds onto me, closely.  

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