dirty dishes.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I do not like washing dishes. I'll wash my own, but I generally try to avoid that particular chore at gatherings. (Unless it's drying; I don't mind drying dishes).

I mentioned on Friday that someone shared a poem with me that changed the way I thought of dirty dishes. After the salad potluck we had on Wednesday, I washed the dishes. (No one asked me to; I just decided to start scrubbing!) While I was working, the school's secretary walked in (she had made the most delicious carrot cake ever!) and seemed surprised to find me at the sink. She thanked me and said that she was usually the one who washed the dishes at the end of the day. I said it was no problem and laughed, sheepishly confessing that it wasn't my favourite chore, to say the least. She laughed, too, and rattled off this ditty:

"Thank God for dirty dishes; 
They have a story to tell.
And by the pile that we have, 
We're certainly living well. 
While other people are starving, 
I haven't the heart to fuss;
For by this stack of evidence, 
God's certainly good to us!" 

She said that her grandfather used to recite it all the time when she was growing up. I knew I wanted to remember it and maybe even type it and frame it. I told her so, and she said she'd type it for me! I was holding it in my hands in just a few minutes.

I can't say that I now love washing dirty dishes, but I'm definitely more thankful for them!

P.S. This is my 100th blog post! Wow! Thanks for reading!

(Author of poem: Unknown. Image via apartment therapy.)