My feet hurt. It’s not an uncommon experience after a day spent dancing but I’m breaking in a new pair of tap shoes and my feet are really sore. Achy. Swollen. Blistered in a few choice places. I can feel them throbbing with every heartbeat…
Which explains my reaction upon arriving home a half hour ago and finding a sink full of dirty dishes: I cried. I took one look at those dirty plates and felt my eyes sting with tears. I don’t feel like walking back and forth to unload the dishwasher or standing at the sink to rinse food-encrusted forks and bowls before loading them into the dishwasher. I want to curl up in a cozy chair and put my weary feet in tub of hot water.
I walked over to the sink and the smell hit me. Not from the sweet potato souffle and turkey remnants splattered on the counter. Not from the plastic container of who-knows-what that my mom pulled out of her car earlier.
Stronger, sweeter than any other aroma in my messy kitchen. A little reminder that I’ve got it pretty good even when my feet hurt and the plates pile high. I have plenty to eat. I have a safe, comfortable place to call home. I am blessed to share life with people I love.
The dishes will keep. I refuse to be frustrated and overwhelmed by a simple task. Sure I’ve got a sink full of unwashed dishes. I’ve also got a life full of unmerited blessing. I’ll go to bed with a thankful heart and tackle that full sink tomorrow morning.