Sometimes I make plans that get tossed out the window, and sometimes I make so many dirty dishes that I wish I could toss them out the window.
When I’m overwhelmed, just one more hair, like a sink full of dishes, can tip the scales too far to one side, making everything crash to the floor, my sanity to be the first to shatter. But after the pieces have been swept up and the tears have been dried, a new picture forms.
Dirty dishes are beyond annoying and I’m convinced that they spawn while lying in the sink, but while they are the bane of my existence, they’re also unwitting philosophers and spiritual gurus.
Unlike anyone I’ve ever met, they are patient. As listeners, there is no rival, and in contrast to my children (and husbands if I’m honest) they can’t cause bodily harm to themselves if left unsupervised. They just sit there – a floating stinky mess of zen – teaching me lessons on patience and detachment.
When life feels like too much, consider the wisdom that’s floating in your kitchen sink. The food scum is plentiful but the lessons are deep (and bubbly).
One Comment
Pingback: