Heartwasher

I've been cooking a lot this week, which means there's been a pile of dishes in my sink that grows and subsides day by day, depending on how late I'm running and how much I can cram in the dishwasher on my way out the door.  Right now its roughly the size of, oh, Mt. Kilimanjaro's older, meaner, brother.

I do not love washing dishes. Or getting prune fingers from the water. Which is why I'm grateful for my dishwasher, even it does leave the occasional spot on a wine glass.

Wouldn't it be nice if there was a people-washer? Yes, I have a shower and I know how to use it. But I mean like, heart stuff.  Jesus is the ultimate heart-washer, but rarely do I get to learn a lesson in 45 minutes.  Mostly we meander a long, double back a few times, stumble, stop to sit on a rock and rest, then trudge on before we reach whatever insight he has in mind. He definitely has to hand wash me and his fingers get all pruney.  How cool would it be to have a question, concern or shortfall, and you pray and push the start button and blammo. Instant growth!

We've all heard the analogy of caterpillars and butterflies and how the journey gives us time to grow wings. Whenever I hear that I mentally roll my eyes. Not because I think its untrue, but because it probably is.  I imagine too, the delight I get from a new insight is much richer than it would be if it were easy.  And in a way, the time is part of a gift back to the one who invented, supplied, and led me to that moment.  Time with God, even if its not sunshine and roses, is still precious to us both.

So maybe its okay that there's not a heartwasher. But I'm still glad I don't have to hand wash my dishes.

Okay, that's all I got. It was a long short-week at work and this girl is wiped.