Doing the dishes.

This weekend I cleaned. Nothing gives me a "cleaner's high" like doing the dishes. And personally, I think there's really only one way to do the dishes...

1. Cram headphones in ears.
2. Secure ipod in back pocket.
3. Shuffle the 500 days of Summer playlist... and every now and then "Forever" by Chris Brown (if Jim and Pam can play it at their wedding, you and I can certainly play it to wash our dishes).
5. Sponge in hand. Soap ready for the squeeze.

5 words for that threatening pile of dirty dishes... PREPARE TO BE DANCED AWAY!

I haven't always had a hop in my scrub. When my mom would tell me to do the dishes, I'd begrudgingly throw them in the dishwasher. Goodness! Here's to reminiscing the days I even had a dishwasher to do the dishes for me!

There was a point in my life, though, when all hatred for dirty dishes vanished and was replaced with joy.

A few years ago I spent a few weeks at an orphanage in Brazil. Where there's an orphanage there's a bunch of dirty dishes.

I didn't want to do the dishes, but they asked for volunteers and somehow my arm thrust my hand into the air. Betrayal of the arm!

Myself and quite a few others began our task: soaking, scrubbing, and drying.

And then it happened. Amidst the bang and clang of glasses and plates someone began to hum. The timid hum gradually turned into a song. The song turned into a sing-a-long. And the sing-a-long into a dance party. Dancing and scrubbing.

The way I felt after each dish had been scrubbed and dried is hard to describe... overwhelmingly filled? Grateful? Loved? All I know is that serving and loving on others has never been the same for me.

I love learning and relearning that there is joy in the simple things...even dirty dishes.

Tic-tacs.

Some things are small... and incredibly significant.

Am I the only one who sometimes wonders if I need to be more aware of my breath? Am I assuming I have better breath than I do?

We so easily know when someone else has bad breathe. Are we suppose to say something to those people like we would if they had food in their teeth?

I'm talking bad breath. Really bad breath. It's the kind of breath that gives us nightmares at night or makes us wish we hadn't removed all the boogers from our noses earlier that day.

I wish we could have an alarm on our back molar that goes off when our breath has turned sour. Can someone please invent that... a Molarm? (ya, that's molar and alarm combined).

Thank goodness for tic-tacs. They aren't long lasting- but they do the trick. After every meal for the past week I've made it a point to tic the tac. If I've had coffee I take an extra two or three doses.

Tic-tacs. Not too expensive right? So share them.

Tic the tacky breath. Love your neighbor as yourself and tic-tac it together.

The view from inside the coffee shop...

It's the view of mainstreet through the window. The view of an old man reading the newspaper like he does every day. The view of the hills as the rain clouds creep up on them, hiding them from sight- a magic trick only weather can really pull off. The view of the rain beating down on the cobblestone pavement. Beating. Hard.

Its phenomenal to me that my perspective of how big the world is changes so much in a small coffee shop.

I don't usually walk out of a coffee shop not having talked to a stranger. I can't waste a whole cup of yummy on only a good book or study session- when i walk in the coffee shop I look around at all the people and see adventures waiting to be shared. People love to share their adventures too. I try to make it a point to hear their adventures- the good, bad, sad, happy, weird, drunk, silly, immature, crazy, or what have you....

Over the past two weeks I've lived at Starbux thanks to a gracious gift card.

Day one. I forgot my headphones and the man across from me was on the phone the whole time. Unintentional adventure hearing isn't my cup of tea. Some call it eavesdropping, but i honestly couldn't help overhearing. He was begging the bank for more money to pay his bills. Begging. distraught. covering his head with his hands. I left very sad for him. Sad to peer into the soul of someone suffering from the low economy.

Day two. Nancy. Sometimes we are called to share our adventures instead of listening to others'. Nancy, an older woman, couldn't stop askingg questions and it was one of those day I couldn't think of any questions to ask. The fact that Nancy wanted to hear my adventures makes me smile. I wonder if that's how other people feel when I ask them to share their stories with me?

Day three. Matt. All I had to do was watch Matt to see that he wants to hear other people's adventures too. He is much more bold than I am though. He is the kind of person I aspire to be- he offers a handshake. I've always wanted to offer handshakes- i'm not a touchy person, but long to be for those who need to be touched. i think a handshake initiates a kindness that can't be communicated with words. My new goal- handshakes with strangers.