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.