The washer adventure

The washer squealed from the moment Keith started it to the end of the wash. Only the wash wasn’t really done. No spin dry. The clothes were so wet, it took three times through the drying cycle to get mostly dry.

“We need to get it fixed,” I said. Keith didn’t disagree. I called a local business about repair.

“How old is it.” 

I had to think. I don’t know, I told the person on the phone. “Very, very old.”

“Hard to get parts,” I was told. “If we can get them at all.”

I was told we needed the serial number. Hanging up, I told Keith. Repair didn’t seem like a good idea. Keith suggested we buy a new washer. I agreed it was the best solution.

“Leave it to me,” Keith said, “After all, I do the wash.” Sounded good to me. He found the one he wanted. We didn’t need lots of bells and whistles, just one that would do the job and fit the area we had for it.

We also needed the old washer taken away. They would do that only if the hoses, etc. were completely detached. Shouldn’t be a big deal. Wrong. The faucet wouldn’t work right. Maybe more pressure from a tool. Nothing was working.

A friend the age of our kids stopped. She’s a nurse and keeps an eye on my health. Rachel tried to help. Nothing worked. She suggested I call Richard, a friend from church. He’s a handyman who’s done quite a bit of work in our house. I called, and he came right over.

Richard began to find one problem after another, broken faucet handle, frozen connections, and that was the beginning. Disconnecting the washer was only part of the problem. The connections needed replacing. Thankfully, Richard understood plumbing and how to fix and replace and who-knows-what else.

Supper time came and Keith brought in supper for us and Richard. We made him take a break. I’d also written a check because this was way more than a simple task. He had taken out the dryer to reach stuff behind it, clean up the gross floor, evidence of just how long the washer had been in place. (The dryer is only a few years old.)

Richard even found a few things like socks that had found their place to the floor. (They were pretty gross too with dirt and lint.)

Finally, I was so tired, I lay on our bed and went to sleep. When I woke up a bit later, Richard was gone, the washer was outside waiting for pick up, and everything was ready for the new washer delivery the next day.

I was so thankful for our friends. But there is more. Rachel recently started working ICU so her time and day to come over had changed. She was here right when we needed her. Richard wasn’t supposed to be home either, but he was and came right over. Without him we’d never gotten things ready for our new washer the next day.

I could look at a washer needing to be replaced and the hassle it all turned into and complain. Or, I can see God at work in available friends, getting connections replaced, etc.—all in time for delivery. That is a blessing. I bow my head and give thanks.

Our new washer works great. I only hope no other appliances gives out any time soon.

© 2025 Carolyn R Scheidies
Hub column published 10/21/2025

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