A Garbage Blessing

Dear God,

As I’m sure you can tell by that pile of unidentifiable slop, that I have finally cleaned out the refrigerator. As hard as I try, it seems I have yet again failed in my responsibility to be a good steward of Leftovers. I think my inherited propensity for collecting margarine and sour cream containers in which to store leftovers might have something to do with my forgetting what food I have in storage, but I won’t get into that now. I would just say, however, that I am very grateful to those little disposable containers for sparing me from having to scrape the filth out–for if nothing else, I am a good steward of Real containers.

I haven’t done anything with the pile yet, as you can see, because the garbage man doesn’t come until morning, and it’s stormy outside right now. Which brings me to the purpose of my little prayer. You see, God, my garbage man knows not what the morrow will bring, but I do. And I think he just might need an extra blessing when he stops by my house.

So bless him, God, for not ever complaining about my garbage. He never tells me how wasteful I am. He never complains about how much garbage I set out for him to pick up. He doesn’t care if I put my garbage in boxes, in trash cans, or in bags. He doesn’t ever complain about anything being too heavy or too bulky. In fact, he never says anything to me about any of it–ever! Without any pomp or fanfare, he just makes it all disappear. And I like that.

My garbage man silently goes about his business. And I go about mine. And we have a pretty good relationship, I think.

So God, please bless that garbage man. A whole bunch.

Amen.