DOWN IN THE DUMP

No, not down in the DUMPS – but literally, down in the dump!

One of the fun little challenges up here in the mountains is the fact that we have to "bus" our own trash.  (Well, to be honest, it's "The Hub" – not "we").

So, about once every two weeks or so, he makes the trek down to the dump.  It's about a 10-minute drive out of town – which is easy to do right now, but might provide a little more fun when we get ***snow*** up here - (yes, I wrote this before the last flurries of fun...)

One day he asked if I wanted to accompany him.

Well, sure, why not.

My sons actually remodeled a home up here about 6 years ago, and that involved several (many, a bunch, tons) of trips to the dump.  I never made the traveling team on that.

But, I've always been a little curious about the dump.

I had visions of those pictures I've seen on TV.  You know, a huge landfill of stratified refuse, with a bulldozer moving all the muck around.  I had visions of alleyways between the towers of rotting…well, rotting everything.  

And oh, I could only imagine the smell!

But, curiosity got the better of me, and so I hopped in the car for the dump-dumping extravaganza.

The first thing I learned is that our dump is more accurately called a "transfer station" – which I figured was just a politically correct way of saying "smelly, disgusting pile of trash."  You know, kinda like how I call my (dyed) gray hair – pigment-challenged follicles.

So, armed with a new bottle of waterless soap, I jumped in the car.

Soon we turned off the main road onto the side road to the "transfer station."

A winding road took us far into the mountains.  This made sense to me.  I figured the longish drive was to keep the smell away from the more populated areas.

As we turned the corner, I caught my first glimpse of the dump.

And got the shock of my life!

There before me lay a circular area (like a parking lot) full of dumpsters all lined up side by side.

What?!?

No landfill?  No towers of trash?  No smell???

Nope.

Just one very well-organized place to leave your junk.  Dumpsters labeled "Ashes" – "Normal Trash" – "Recyclables" – "Cardboard" – "Metal" – bigger dumpsters for "Bulky Items" – and one for "Electronic Waste."  Also a place in the back for "Green Waste" (branches and leaves and such).

I was astonished.

It was so…well, so un-trashy.

Yes, I get it now, I thought to myself.  Here we "transfer" our trash to the dumpsters, and then someone else "transfers" it to…well, actually I don't know where – must be a landfill somewhere else!

No mess, no hassle.

(A sidenote here:  Do you guys that live somewhere else in the country have Waste Management?  I'm not kidding – "The Hub" and I have traveled in the western United States a lot, and all we seem to see is Waste Management dumpsters.  I seriously think these people have a monopoly on trash).

I looked at "The Hub" with wide-open eyes.  And then, with a smile, I said, "Can I come here again?" 

It was just so easy.

And you can bring ALL of your stuff here.  No rules.  

Down below where my parents live, the city has a limit on how many cans you're allowed to put at the curb.  Where we used to live, we could ONLY use the trashcans provided by…yes, you guessed it, Waste Management.  AND, you couldn't fill them heavier than 50 pounds.  AND, if you wanted to get rid of anything else, like a crummy couch or mattress, or something bulky like that – you had to schedule an appointment for pick-up.  And you were only allowed to do that like twice in a year.

Up here, the sky's the limit.

It almost makes me want to be more "trashy" – wait, that didn't quite sound right…

Well, I'm sure you're wondering where I'm going with all of this.  I'm hoping this is an amusing little story – but you know that I'm always looking for that *God lesson* in life.

Here's what I got thinking about.

Lots of times I look at my life and it seems like a hodge-podge of junk. Useless feelings, crumpled up thoughts, discarded goals, rotting problems – my own little pile of trash.  

Sometimes I get out a bulldozer and move things around a little bit – but the stinky piles still remain.

What a mess, I often think to myself.  What a mess.

Lord, I often feel like a dump.

But does HE see me that way?

Oh no!  

In His Sovereignty, He has created a well-organized "transfer station."

His blood, my sin.  His death, my life.  His resurrection, my eternity.

It's a good deal.

No rules.  There are no limits to the refuse I can leave at the curb for Him to take care of.  And He doesn't care how I "can" it – it can come in tears or in anger.  No limit to the "poundage" of my junk.  And those bulky things? The BIG stuff? 

Yup, He can handle that too.  (And not just twice a year).

Yes, the sky's the limit.

In gratitude for His perfect "waste management," I look at Jesus with a wide-open heart, and say with a smile, "Can I come here again?"


Are you "dumping" your trash at the foot of the Cross?

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Linked today with:
Joan at SHARING HIS BEAUTY
Michelle at HEAR IT ON SUNDAY, USE IT ON MONDAY
Tracy at WINSOME WEDNESDAY
Charlotte at SPIRITUAL SUNDAYS


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