$1.75 Per Piece
If you listen carefully to all the machines, it'll remind you of that scene in Tarzan when the animals are making music with all of Jane's equipment. The whoozing and shushing of the irons, the swirling and tumbling of the washing machines, and the barely audible radio channel singing its finest Spanish songs all meet as frequencies in midair to create a strangely harmonious cacophony of sounds.
The heat, it's almost suffocating in the mornings- especially in the summer- when all the machines run simultaneously. Right around noon, the machines come to a stop and the heat leaves with the workers. The silence that slowly creeps in is a cue to start preparing for the day.
My parents have been working at a dry cleaners for the past decade. I never quite understood the amount of labor that was necessary to get through each day's workload until I started high school. The habit of sorting through other people's dirty laundry, the painful organization of clean clothes to their rightful owners, and the occasional complaints about stains that were there prior to coming to our store are all things that you cover in Dry Cleaning 101. Now imagine doing this with a basic knowledge of English. No one teaches you how to thrive in a foreign country, you just work hard and remain faithful.
My parents are not superhuman, nor are they under-qualified for other jobs. Both my parents received bachelor's degrees; my mom worked for her life to graduate from one of Korea's top universities. And yet here they are, everyday, six days a week, going from the heat of hell to the cold of night to wash other people's dirty clothes.
It's not as shameful as it is painful. It's not necessarily that their education is put to waste; it never defined them in the first place anyway. For every 8 hours of work I complain about, my parents work twice that much. For every 5 days of work I complain about, my parents work 6. For the handful of holidays I get during the year, my parents get half. So no, it's not quite about the salary that they are worthy of. I often wonder for what purpose were my parents placed in this country for. To what end...?
An answer, and rightfully so they would say, would be for their children. Most people sacrifice themselves for things that are more valuable than themselves. To their dismay, neither my brother nor I attended any Ivy league colleges. We understand now, that we were placed in specific schools for God's specific purpose. But even after sending their children to University of California campuses, my parents are still working at the cleaners. Why?
Much like how sacrifices are made for things and people we deem of greater value, the pain that is seemingly unbearable at the moment is endurable when the end goal is of eternal value. It's not just because washing five more loads of laundry will pay the bills. It's not because manually hanging wet clothes and taking them down when they're dry qualifies as a good past-time. It is the understanding that God places his sovereign hands on every given situation, and the knowledge that by delighting in them brings God much glory, brings them the joy and satisfaction in life. It is God's love that propels them forward each and every day. The love I find in my heart for my parents is so minuscule compared to what Christ did for them on the cross, and for that I am eternally grateful. Oh the peace in knowing that there is a God whose love is greater than any love I will ever know...
So tonight the machines continue to whizz, whirl, and whoosh. It breaks down once in a while, leading my dad onto the roof in an effort to fix it himself. Scars and scratches mark his forearms that once displayed the youthful days of tae-kwon-do practice. Rain or shine, my mom cooks lunch for the both of them, and they giggle about the comedy program they watched the night before. Time and labor may physically present itself on the surface, but the joy found deep in Christ's love makes each wrinkle glow with inexplicable beauty.
Though their hands may be cracked and swollen at the end of every work day, they are still my favorite pairs of hands to hold. What an honor to hold the hands of two people who caress the Word of God, cling on to the feet of Christ, and pray fiercely for God to be glorified in all that they do.
Why do you do what you do?
I hope and pray that I can live each day understanding the gravity and weight of God's purpose in each of my moment.
Soli Deo Gloria.
The heat, it's almost suffocating in the mornings- especially in the summer- when all the machines run simultaneously. Right around noon, the machines come to a stop and the heat leaves with the workers. The silence that slowly creeps in is a cue to start preparing for the day.
My parents have been working at a dry cleaners for the past decade. I never quite understood the amount of labor that was necessary to get through each day's workload until I started high school. The habit of sorting through other people's dirty laundry, the painful organization of clean clothes to their rightful owners, and the occasional complaints about stains that were there prior to coming to our store are all things that you cover in Dry Cleaning 101. Now imagine doing this with a basic knowledge of English. No one teaches you how to thrive in a foreign country, you just work hard and remain faithful.
My parents are not superhuman, nor are they under-qualified for other jobs. Both my parents received bachelor's degrees; my mom worked for her life to graduate from one of Korea's top universities. And yet here they are, everyday, six days a week, going from the heat of hell to the cold of night to wash other people's dirty clothes.
It's not as shameful as it is painful. It's not necessarily that their education is put to waste; it never defined them in the first place anyway. For every 8 hours of work I complain about, my parents work twice that much. For every 5 days of work I complain about, my parents work 6. For the handful of holidays I get during the year, my parents get half. So no, it's not quite about the salary that they are worthy of. I often wonder for what purpose were my parents placed in this country for. To what end...?
An answer, and rightfully so they would say, would be for their children. Most people sacrifice themselves for things that are more valuable than themselves. To their dismay, neither my brother nor I attended any Ivy league colleges. We understand now, that we were placed in specific schools for God's specific purpose. But even after sending their children to University of California campuses, my parents are still working at the cleaners. Why?
Much like how sacrifices are made for things and people we deem of greater value, the pain that is seemingly unbearable at the moment is endurable when the end goal is of eternal value. It's not just because washing five more loads of laundry will pay the bills. It's not because manually hanging wet clothes and taking them down when they're dry qualifies as a good past-time. It is the understanding that God places his sovereign hands on every given situation, and the knowledge that by delighting in them brings God much glory, brings them the joy and satisfaction in life. It is God's love that propels them forward each and every day. The love I find in my heart for my parents is so minuscule compared to what Christ did for them on the cross, and for that I am eternally grateful. Oh the peace in knowing that there is a God whose love is greater than any love I will ever know...
So tonight the machines continue to whizz, whirl, and whoosh. It breaks down once in a while, leading my dad onto the roof in an effort to fix it himself. Scars and scratches mark his forearms that once displayed the youthful days of tae-kwon-do practice. Rain or shine, my mom cooks lunch for the both of them, and they giggle about the comedy program they watched the night before. Time and labor may physically present itself on the surface, but the joy found deep in Christ's love makes each wrinkle glow with inexplicable beauty.
Though their hands may be cracked and swollen at the end of every work day, they are still my favorite pairs of hands to hold. What an honor to hold the hands of two people who caress the Word of God, cling on to the feet of Christ, and pray fiercely for God to be glorified in all that they do.
Why do you do what you do?
I hope and pray that I can live each day understanding the gravity and weight of God's purpose in each of my moment.
Soli Deo Gloria.
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