As a kid, I always thought the guys on the back of the garbage trucks had the best jobs. They got to ride around on the outside of the truck, jump off to empty cans, throw the cans back onto the lawns, then jump back on until the next house. Sometimes, they walked to the next house and kept on dumping those cans into the back of the truck until it was full.Then came the really cool part. If you were lucky enough to be there when it happened, you saw them pull that big red lever and hear the loud noise as the huge white metal mouth came out and ate all that garbage! It was pulled into a secret part of the truck because when it was finished, all of that garbage was gone! The guys would jump back onto the back of the truck, hang onto the metal handle, wave good-bye to us kids and ride to the next block. Wow, that was exciting growing up in a small neighborhood.
As an adult there are times I am dragging my cans of garbage out to the curbside when I think to myself, "I wish I could get rid of the garbage that stays stuck inside of me." For years now, I've been in therapy, recovery groups for this problem and that problem, friendships and bible studies but inside lurks hidden wrappers and dirty trash. They're sins of secrecy and pride.
Not wanting to talk about pain. Not wanting to cry in front of others. Not wanting to admit I need help (especially right now). Not asking for help. Feeling like a burden when I do ask for help. Not wanting to admit I can't do certain things like walking more than a block or sometimes around the house without a cane. Knowing someday I'll need a walker. Seizures that are unpredictable. Sleeping so much. Trying to deal with people looking at me as I use a cane. Looking into their eyes, smiling and saying, 'Hi' so they know I'm normal. Or maybe it's so I know I'm normal. It's hard to write because of the tremors but typing today seems to be okay. Unresolvable physical problems. Some need more testing. A lumbar puncture looks to be in my future because the spinal fluid probably holds the secret. I don't have MS or Lyme's. I haven't had a stroke. I don't have a brain tumor. But what do I have? Garbage.
I still like the sound of the garbage truck. It brings back good memories. It reminds me that Jesus takes all my garbage daily and can help me overcome the garbage that's hiding in the dark corners of my heart. That's what he does best. (And yes, in case you're wondering, today is garbage day in Wauconda!).
