Trash and Treasures

Trash collectors dictate the ebb and flow of my life.

Because they pick up yard trash about 6 a.m. on Fridays, I spent Thursday pruning branches so I could have them at the curb in time for the trashmen. So, all day I balanced on a ten-foot ladder sawing off dead palm fronds.

I now have a huge pile of debris at the curb ready for pick up.

If I don’t get the dead branches down this month, hurricane season starts next month and the storms will prune the trees for me, but with less precision.

As I balanced on my ladder, I thought about various aspects and implications of my faith in Christ. The Christian religion reminds me of the many sparkling facets of a diamond; whichever way I turn it I see some shining wonder.

Every time I consider one facet, I think of others even more impressive.

There’s worship and history and social and relational and spiritual and charitable and personal and collective and all sorts of overlapping other aspects, each one a treasure and each one a pain in the ass. Different appeals and different rewards. Some much easier for me to stomach than others. Some I love to ponder and others I avoid thinking about.

I haven’t thought any of this through enough to be able to write about it coherently.

I’ll let it percolate for a while longer before I try.

Meanwhile, I need to get the recycle bin to the curb; it’s six a.m. right this moment and the truck for that stuff comes by at seven.