I Am A Garbage Can

I have been married for 21 years. We use the same garbage can that I bought when we moved into our first home. I was cleaning the kitchen cupboards the other day and noticed that the garbage can needed washing on the outside. Food and other debris had dripped along the sides, dirt and dog hair clung to the edges, and crusty things from long ago had adhered to the plastic. As I washed the outside of the garbage can I thought about how this represents me. The can is doing its job, but it is getting banged and bunged with every toss of the trash. It is still in working order, though the lid was lost years ago and the color is a few shades different than when I bought it. I too am doing my job, but at times I feel banged, bunged, lost, and discolored. I need to take the time to wash me off, renew my mission, and put me back in place. Our spiritual assignment this week is to slow down. Let others go in front of us in line, take the long way to work, notice the (frozen) roses along the path. For me that means reflecting on how I am like a 21 year old garbage can: Useful and in working order even if there are a few knicks in my side. I just need to take the time to wash off a bit.