Dishes Meditation

Last night after dinner I realized I hadn't started the dishwasher from the night before. As a result, I had dishes left on the counter. At first I groaned. I figured I would have to wait until the end of the cycle and fill the machine again late last night. Then I had a thought. Wash them by hand.

Now, I'm the first to admit there really doesn't seem to be much weight to this idea. After all, people all over the world wash dishes by hand every day. I've always hated it. Washing dishes was my job as I grew up. At one point, I washed dishes for nine people every night. Not fun. I learned to wash dishes when I was seven or eight years old. The sink was so deep I needed to stand on a chair to perform the chore.

In my early married years, I avoided doing the dishes for days and days. They would pile up beside the sink. Mike's grandmother would counsel me and say it would be so much easier if you simply did them every day. I rebelled. It wasn't pretty.

Last night I filled the sink with hot soapy water and washed those few dishes. Mike was gone for the evening and the house was quiet. There is something contempletive about the heat and the sound of swishing water. I had time to pray. Wash and rinse. Wash and rinse.

I regret that I didn't listen to Grammie Rose sooner. She was a wise woman. These days I can't abide a counter full of dishes. I tend to them every night so I have a clean slate in the morning. There is something to be said for peaceful order. I don't think I'll get rid of my dishwasher just yet. I do think I will take time now and then to go "old school" and wash the dishes by hand. It does something good for the soul.