The Importance of a Kitchen Window

I have a dishwasher (which is energy efficient and we only turn it on when it’s jammed packed and we only use the light cycle – there justified).

So, I have a dishwasher, yet I still find myself washing pots, pans, the cat’s dish, travel mugs, Nalgene bottles, and so forth at the sink located under the kitchen window. I enjoy this time spent with my hands in the soapy, warm, water that smells of sweet green apples. In fact, there are times when I go to the kitchen in hopes of finding some dishes to wash. Crazy, I know, particularly considering the battles fought as a child, teen and even as a young adult (sorry Mom, Jenny, and all past roommates for any suffering and anguish this may have caused, either vented or not). So, what could possibly draw me to this little, stainless steel sink with a window above it?

The view is by no means spectacular. It is of a tiny backyard that fills with garbage blown in from the back lane. This dingy lane I stare at is often filled with cars from the Coptic Orthodox church, (they put Protestant Christians to shame with the amount of time they come together for church and prayer), the apartment dwellers just down the lane, and the ever abhorrent Balcean & Sons Plumbing trucks that seem to believe they own the entrance to the back lane and the lane itself – not to mention the amount of garbage this business dumps by the two dumpsters, which I also have the great fortune of viewing through my kitchen window.

So, it is not the view that draws me there. Nor do I believe it is my hyper need for cleanliness. Rather, I am drawn to the relaxing five to fifteen minutes that I spend there relatively quiet and uninterrupted. Here I stand as I deliberately wash a few dishes, reflecting. Often attempting to come to a comfortable resolve on a topic or releasing an issue that may have arisen either from the day or from my memory.

Recently, I was mulling over something my boss opened a staff meeting with. It was an idea he was pondering from a book he read regarding the past. What stood out to me was something about allowing the past to bless you . . . Hmm, what does that mean? And what a crazy thought – allowing my past to bless me?! Certainly, there are wonderful parts of my past that have formed and shaped me into who I am. I can see how much of my upbringing has impacted me and made me the strong, content, friendly person I am today. But, there is a time, in my life where I can’t see how it could bless me.

This is not to say this time was bleak and horrific. By no means was it, as I met many awesome individuals, experienced great things, and learned so much about people and life. However, when I journey back I sense a pain I never spoke of, I note a selfishness I lost myself to, and I am flooded with a fear that I now know I allowed myself to surrender to.

Perhaps it is the shame I carry from this mixed up time that drifts me back there, wondering how it could bless me. Perhaps it is the knowledge of the hurt I caused some people to experience then that keeps some memories ever present in my minds eye? Mostly though, I think it is the knowledge that I will not be able to apologize for this hurt caused. So, how can this bless me?

Yes, it has almost been ten years. And, it has also been brought to my attention that maybe I am arrogant to think that this undue harm I caused actually affects them to this day –that they ever even think on this time or me and the terrible decisions that were made. Perhaps this is true. But, I’ll never know. So, how can this bless me?

And so it is, at the kitchen window I stand, slowly washing my dishes, contemplating such things.

Where is your kitchen window?

Hanging out with Female Friends

I have a confession: So after I ranted about buying from developing countries and shipping these items long distance I went away on a trip with three female friends to do exactly that – buy from developing countries that use slave labour, etc. But, please note, this trip was something of an anomaly for me for several reasons:

1. The friends are the wives of my husband’s friends.
2. The point of the trip was to shop.
3. The shopping took place in the USA, more particularly at, “The Mall of America” and “Super Target”.
4. The shopping was sponsored by MasterCard.
5. I am trying to be more conscious of where I am buying or from what country, etc.

Why is this a confession? Well besides the obvious (again stealing from the economically disabled and buying out of country only to put it on credit) I do not feel good for this shopping expedition because there was no real joy to it. We were four women on a mission of consumerism. Four women out to buy and get away with as much as we could without having to pay duty - which BTW the Canadian government raised to $400CDN from $200CDN for a 2 -4 day trip to the USA about 2 weeks before my trip.

Sure in the evening we ladies chatted and hung-out, despite exhaustion after a day of shopping. But real conversation, the stuff that makes a friend a friend didn’t come until the drive home. And even then it felt shallow. My confession then, is that I didn’t brave the situation, I let it pass me by. I didn’t try to make friends.

Why do I find it difficult to connect to others? Why does it feel like I can’t be honest with others? For instance, something bothered me about a particular topic on the trip. However, rather than talk it out, I ignored it. I guess I didn’t want to ruffle feathers? But, isn’t that what a friend does? They venture into the deeps – the sacred space of another to share, to laugh, to challenge, to encourage, to support, to cry with, etc.

I know there are different levels of friendship. But, why is it I find myself at the shallow end of the pool? Is it because I have my guard up, afraid of judgment? More than likely, as I am terrible for judging and maintaining high standards for myself. So of course I would suspect others of this. What a sad state of affairs.

It’s amazing this world I live in. Praise for greed, praise for individualism, praise for – feeling alone?

I have the need to comment here, that I don’t feel all alone. Steve is a beautiful support and I love him, understanding that he loves me. And of course, being a Christian I have a relationship with God that ebbs and flows in distance and connection. All well and good, but what of the other human connections? I guess I’m looking for more than “Cheers” or the “Starbucks Experience”. I want to be known and to know others (thank you Larry Crabb).

How about you?