Thank God for Dirty Dishes

Dirty dishes are the worst part of cooking. Their ability to quickly multiply, taking over the sink, is daunting. I, also, insist on keeping the dishes moving through the sink and the dishwasher. I fear stacks of dirty plates and food covered bowls, I religiously keep up with them to avoid a pile up at the end of the day. And when I am feeling extra dramatic about effort it takes to clean them, I decide either a cucumber with hummus or popcorn will serve as the perfect dinner. I regularly complained about the dishes, until last night. 

A Course in Miracles, defines a miracle, partly, as a shift in perception. The miracle occurs internally; it is something that happens inside of us. This idea is layered and takes me endless amounts of reading and time to begin to comprehend. Somedays I feel like I understand and other days I don’t have a clue. 

Yesterday, a friend shared a few pictures of her Mother’s Day moments. One of these pictures was a sink full to the brim with dirty dishes. She posted a message, along with her pictures. Her message lovingly described the meal her family planned and prepared in her honor and then she ended her message with a quote. And, honestly, her simple quote and sink full of dishes affected me in a huge way.

I work on gratitude, as well as my perception. And I really work to find the lotus moments that grow in the mud. The kind of moment when I am almost blind to that small flower of gratitude. I can conjure up a decent gratitude list most of the time. And, although, I am surprised by some of the little things that end up on my list, I am sure dishes have never made an appearance. But, I made a commitment to cultivate a shift in perception and more gratitude, so I shouldn’t make exceptions. Even when it comes to the dishes.

“Thank God for dirty dishes. They have a tale to tell. 

While others may go hungry. We’re eating very well.”

I assumed food was an easy place to discover the joy of gratitude and a shift in perception. I just noticed the rainbow of color that fills my refrigerator. What I failed to see is the dirty dishes are connected with the healthy food. You can’t have one without the other. Their crusty sides and black bottoms are the leftovers of conversation and connection, of health and wellness, of sharing and love. They are the mud needed to grow the lotus. Dirty dishes might be a silly and very small teacher, but their dirt and my friend’s beautiful sentiment, taught me to shift my perception, in the right direction, just that much more.

Dirty dishes in the sink. They are messy beautiful.