the sanctity of the sink

Last night at Evening Prayer we talked about finding the sacred in the ordinary.  Even in Mt Washmore and the folding of the clothes.  Ahem.  Over the weekend, my Fella was out of town, our Princess was sick, and Aub was working.  The emptying of the dishwasher was left to me and Cooter, who can’t do much more than the silverware and tumblers without climbing on stools.  And trust me, with this one, climbing is contraindicated.  As I faced the pile of dishes in the sink, on the counter, piled on top of piles, I realized I had put it off long enough.  If it were to be, it was to be me.  Last night I thought about that sink full of dishes and tried to see it with a different pair of eyes.  To see it as sacred.

the sanctity of the sink

All those dishes

dirty in the sink

beside the sink…..

but all reveals the blessing

in the having of dishes

and silverware and the food

that was prepared and served

and that left the spoons

and cutting board

and knife covered with flavor and

remnants of a meal lovingly created

for all

The hummus container

needs rinsing

for recycling because we can

and we should

The medicine cup used

to give a dose of relief

along with a prayer for healing

The cups that were filled with water,

clean water, to parch a thirst

and replenish our bodies

Such a simple thing

and taken for granted

but a gift to be appreciated nonetheless

The puppy’s kong for dispensing treats,


a reminder of this one we wished for

for so long

and we love

The blender parts

left over from the fruit smoothie

that boosted my spirit–

thankful for those who grow and pick

and freeze the fruit,

the perfect timing of all three of those

or it’s no good to eat

The dishrag that I got

from Mama

I see her hands washing the dishes and

wiping down the counter

with this one–her favorite color


She loved washing dishes by hand

the warm water helped her arthritis

“Besides, it’s just me” she said, and

so she rarely ran the dishwasher

As I rinse and load

I remember the lesson she taught me

“A dishwasher will last longer if you don’t

work it so hard–rinse your dishes”

She thought the loading was like a Tetris puzzle

she could always fit in one more thing,

after all

she did once “fit a five foot swimming pool

in a little bitty Falcon”

That’s family lore there

As I rinse the remnants of another meal done

I give thanks

for those who grew it, prepared it, sold it,

transported it, sold it to me,

and I give thanks that I am able to cook–

nothing fancy, mind you

but it’ll do

and I give thanks that we have so many dirty dishes

at each mealtime

because that is more love and laughter to go around

At the bottom of the sink what Mama used to call

“dinner dandruff”

I used to marvel that she could reach in

and touch the stuff–ewwww

And now I watch my own hands,

not totally unlike hers

as I finish clearing out the sink

I find the dishwasher soap from underneath

and pour it in

I press a button and give thanks for this

gift of modern technology

the invention of someone who wanted to

change the world

and she did (or he maybe?)

Tomorrow I will do this all over again

and likely it won’t feel the same

It is easier not to feel and

hard to always think and give thanks

in all

but for tonight

I’m on Holy Ground

standing over my sink

in my bare feet





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