>As I headed out of the kitchen, trash bag in hand, my load suddenly felt lighter and my feet felt wet and sticky. Jabs of pain radiated down my thigh.
Earlier that day I had hastily tossed a broken wire hanger into the trash can. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but apparently the metal stick landed in just the right spot to tear open the bag and simultaneously gash my leg.
I stood surveying the stinky mess that blanketed the floor I had scrubbed two hours prior. What was once pristine was covered in filth.
In that moment I did a lot of futile wishing.
I wished that I had never thrown that hanger away.
I wished that my leg wasn’t throbbing.
I even wished that my name was Carol Brady and that a trusty housekeeper named Alice would clean up the mess for me.
But none of my wishing altered my reality. There was a big ugly mess on my kitchen floor and I was responsible for cleaning it up.
As I examine my life, I can recall many messes made in the corridors of my heart, spirit, and mind. Like the gunky monstrosity caused by the broken trash bag, some of my messes were created by my negligence, sins, and mistakes.
—–Please visit me here to finish reading this story and to learn more about the hope that exists for cleaning up life’s ugliest messes.